


High Noon Or Midnight, I Don't Want To Know

by creamcoffeelou



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alpha Louis, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bonding, Lots of dialogue, M/M, Omega Harry, Prince Harry - Freeform, Royalty, Royalty AU, robinhood sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 10:35:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28705281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/creamcoffeelou/pseuds/creamcoffeelou
Summary: The intruder stands there for too long before he reaches into his bag, pulling a length of rope into his hands.The darkness is too overpowering for Harry to make out any of the alpha’s features, rather he can only see the sweeping movement of his hands, his legs as he takes a step closer. Harry knows what’s happening, can see exactly how this is going to play out, but he almost doesn’t want to fight the idea.“Wait,” Harry starts. The words come faster than he intends, mouth moving before he can think through what he’s saying. “Let me get dressed and pack a bag. And then I will go with you.”OR: Harry is an omega prince who doesn't want the crown and will do anything to escape. Louis is an alpha who does and will do anything to get it.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 11
Kudos: 148
Collections: OmegaHarryFicFest





	High Noon Or Midnight, I Don't Want To Know

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the omega harry fic fest! I had a lot of fun and I'm glad to get to share it! I hope you enjoy :)

Sunlight wanders into the small space between consciousness and wakefulness in Harry’s dream. 

It’s warm, bringing him to lazy Sunday afternoons with fresh biscuits and sandwiches and a table full of his family. 

He wakes fully with a sleep tainted groan, sitting up and reaching his arms above his head. His bones creak as he stretches, pops and cracks filling the otherwise silent space of his room. 

A maid comes in next. "Good morning, your Highness," She says cheerfully, moving to pull the curtains back and opens the windows, filling the room with morning light and sweet spring-morning air. 

"Good morning, Dorothea," He replies softly. He stands, smoothing out the wrinkles in his sleep clothes. Dorothea fetches his clothes for the day and drapes them over the foot of the bed. Once Harry has moved to his vanity, she pulls the duvet back and makes his bed with practiced hands, fluffing the pillows and arranging them in the way every bed in the palace is made each morning. 

Harry rarely finds a moment to himself, and the noise and movement is something he's gotten used to, throughout his life. 

"Would you like your breakfast sent up, sir?" 

"Yes please. Will you send Zayn after I've finished? If he's awake." 

"Of course, sir. Anything else?" 

"No, that's all." 

As soon as the door shuts behind her, he dresses himself quickly, lacing up the ties on the corset around his waist and fastening the clasps on his pants. If he were Alpha, a maid would dress him. 

He prefers it this way, though, as he twirls around in front of his mirror, eyes looking over the drapes of silk and lace on his body. 

He takes in every piece of independence he can get and savors it, holding onto each moment like a treat. 

Only a few minutes later is there a second knock at his door. 

"Come in," He says loudly, sitting at his desk as his food is brought to him. He doesn't recognize the maid that comes in, but he doesn't ask questions. He'd stopped asking questions far too long ago. "That will be all, thank you." 

  
  
  


Morning passes without anything meaningful, and Zayn joins him in the afternoon. Zayn had joined the royal guard as soon as he'd turned of age, intending to become something more than a servant and Harry had given him a glowing recommendation when he'd been asked of Zayn's work ethic. 

It left them with less time to see one another, but he knew it made him happy and he had no reason to question that.

"What's on your schedule today, then?" Zayn asked, pouring himself a cup of tea from the pot that had been brought to Harry just before he arrived. 

There were some things that he and Zayn discussed that no one else needed to know of, some things that they did that no one could ever catch word of unless they wanted to be separated permanently. 

"I think I have another fitting for my ball suit. Horse riding. Swords, I think? But I can never remember if that's Thursdays or Tuesdays."

"You're still doing swords? I thought your father said that was an alpha's sport?"

"He did, but I have a way of getting what I want, I suppose." He grinned, turning to the window to look at the clear sky where it rolled out over the hills that surround the palace. "Join me?" 

"I might be able to beat you now, you know. Are you sure your ego can handle it?" Zayn smiles as Harry rolls his eyes, shrugging on a coat over the blazer on his shoulders. 

"I'll have to see the day you can beat me before I believe it." 

  
  
  


The two of them stood in the centre of the field they'd been in time and time before, blunt swords in hand as they stood just opposite each other. 

Harry always led in a sword fight. 

Everyone around him reminded him whenever they felt necessary that it's taboo for an omega to lead, that he should follow the rhythm set for him rather than set his own, but he'd found his strength in leading and hadn't lost a fight since. 

Zayn yields easy on their first match, Harry's focus sharp on the beta's hands. 

He can tell the other man has certainly improved under his guard training, but Harry has been playing swords since he was old enough to hold one, and he doubts any training could catch someone up to that in just a few short months. 

"Let's walk?" Harry offers, handing the swords off to the stable boy that watches over the two of them from a far. A constant presence, the prince and his company never allowed to be alone no matter the circumstance. 

A second guard joins them as soon as they walk through the threshold of the gardens, a ghost like shadow trailing far enough behind them to not be intrusive, but the presence still clear. 

The gardens span nearly six kilometers in each direction, flowers and bushes decorating a winding path that he's spent most days memorizing the lay out of, only for it to be changed by the gardeners the following season. He's learned to enjoy the changes, the shifts in monotony when he finds that a new footpath has been added or a bush dug up and replaced with a different flower. 

"We don't have to go to the center, if you're not in the mood," Zayn reminds him as they edge closer to the turn that will lead them to the one place Harry has never quite gotten used to seeing. A painful and blunt reminder every time that he does. 

The one thing that he knows will forever remain unchanged, however, is the stonework that sits in the center of the walkway, white roses crawling up vines of a trestle all around it. 

_ Lucas Styles.  _

It's simple, a memorial, rather than a grave.

Lucas had to war as a general. A customary right of passage for an alpha meant to ascend to the throne, one day. Every Styles alpha that had been born to take the throne had served a decade as a general in the royal army, learning the workings of their military structure and growing into a man. 

Lucas’ path had been different. Instead of returning home to his rightful place on the throne, he returned as a thought and a broken heart. 

He’d been the first and the last alpha born son of the Styles name and his father had never been the same after his death. 

His father had refused to see it as a grave for months after his death, and there are times Harry thinks he's still hopeful that his brother will return one day. 

He misses his brother. Of course, he does. 

Although, there are times that a selfish part of him crawls up into his brain, the thoughts of wishing Lucas were home so he could carry on with the easy life he’d been promised as a child festering in his mind. 

He shakes the thoughts away without allowing himself to dwell on them. 

"Are you okay?" Zayn asks after a moment, concern lacing his voice. Harry just smiles and nods, moving forward for the two of them to continue their walk, looping down the garden path to go back to the palace. 

  
  


“I can’t stay as long as usual, this evening. I’m sorry.” 

“Special event?” Zayn smiles, but he doesn’t say anything else about it. 

"See you tomorrow?" 

"Of course."

Then, he’s gone. 

Another knock rattles from the wooden door of his bedroom barely an hour later and he sighs softly, telling whoever it is to come in. 

"Your mother wanted me to fetch you for supper, your Highness." 

"Thank you." 

He puts the boots back on his feet with a final glance at himself in the mirror before he walks through the halls of the palace with practiced ease, navigating the turns to the dining room easily. 

“Good evening, love.” 

“Good evening, mum.”

Beyond that, dinner is a silent affair. It’s the same as most other nights, their staff bringing their meals as the two of them eat together in silence. She looks tired, exhaustion carved into a shade of grey beneath her eyes, so Harry doesn’t bother to try and make any small talk. 

“Are you excited for your ball?” She finally asks just as their meal is more than halfway through. 

“Oh, of course,” He lies. “I’m greatly looking forward to it.” 

“Your father has scheduled it in a week’s time.” 

He coughs, surprise flooding through him all at once. He stares, wide eyed at his mother. She seems thrilled, a smile on her face that makes the guilt eat away at him even more. 

“A week?” 

“Yes, darling. Isn’t that exciting? You’ll be married in no time.” 

“Do you know when the wedding will be?” 

“It’s customary to be three weeks after the ball.” 

He doesn’t finish his food, after that. His stomach twists in knots that threaten to make him vomit if he thinks about it any longer. It’s not that he isn’t excited to get married. He’s spent every free moment of his alone time since he’d been a child thinking of it, but a part of him had romanticized it. Filling his mind with fantasies of loving the person he was meant to marry. 

“May I be excused? I suppose I need to take this in, a bit.” 

“Of course, dear.” 

It feels like a blur as he walks himself back to his room, a feeling he can’t describe filling his body. 

He lays himself down on his bed and tries to keep his mind from wondering into the possibilities of what his marriage could be. 

  
  
  


He refuses any staff that try to enter his room for the remainder of the night, laying in bed as he stares up at the ceiling, long after the sun sets and the palace falls quiet. 

When he does get up, joints creaking as he stands, he strips his clothes from his body, tossing them away haphazardly. 

He stands in front of his mirror, naked, eyes drawing slowly over every detail of his body. 

He's never been touched by another person, other than his mother. Touching an omega outside of marriage is strictly forbidden, even in a platonic sense. There are moments where he craves it, craves the physical intimacy that could come with a hug from Zayn or to lay in bed with a stranger and allow himself to be held. 

He wants it more than anything, sometimes, and the urges for it swell when he finds himself alone in the evening times.

He runs his hands down his stomach, over his thighs, looking at himself as he does. 

It feels like he’s looking at a different person, like he’s observing from the outside, and its uncomfortable, sending a shiver down his spine. 

He forces himself to dress in his night clothes after too long of looking himself over. 

He knows he was meant to be asleep hours previous, all but one of his candles blown out to avoid the glow from his window or beneath the door that would signal to any of his staff that he'd yet to fall asleep. 

He likes to think the barely there glow over his skin is romantic, something he would like to share with his mate, one day. Even if he doesn't know him yet, he hopes that he will, one day. Beyond just knowing his name and his face. A part of him is desperate for that, desperate for the affection and intimacy, both emotional and physical, that his body craves, even if it's from someone he doesn't know. 

As much as he would love for it to be from someone he knows and wants to be around, he's grown comfortable with the reality that that's not what he can expect from life. 

He slips a gown over his shoulders, tying the lace around his waist and pulling his hair up into a knot. 

The material against his skin feels restrictive, holding him captive in an eternal prison it feels like he can never escape. 

He breathes through the feeling, in through his nose and out through his mouth as he forces the thoughts away. In less than a month's time, he'll never have to worry about touch deprivation again. 

Touch deprivation has always been a taboo topic in his house. 

He knows it’s common from listening to the way his mother spoke about her experiences with it, yet a shameful pit digs itself into his stomach every time he knows he’s approaching the feeling of it. 

Any mention of it leads to a scolding from his father, mentioning that he should have been married long ago, if it had been up to him. As much as Harry knows that it very much has been up to him the entire time, he's always bitten back his words and accepted the special tea that his mother makes in remedy, taking away the symptoms of his loneliness and touch deprivation within a night. 

He huffs out a breath as he crawls into bed, the material of his sheets only compounding the feeling of overwhelm, but he knows sleep will make it better. 

  
  
  


The following day is much like the same. 

Zayn is with him more days than not. That much hasn’t changed even with Zayn’s new career and life path. 

His mother always said that he’d been selected to be his friend since before Harry had been born, an agreement between families that had been upheld for centuries. 

Harry rarely thought of it like that; rather, he likes to think of Zayn as a true friend. 

Instead of swords, the two of them had wondered off to the lake with a hoard of grapes stolen from the kitchen to split into pieces and feed to the ducks. 

“Will my Father be joining us this evening?” Harry asked after a long while of the two of them sitting there. Zayn often knows more about his father’s schedule than Harry does, but he’d never found anything wrong with that. 

“I don’t believe so. I haven’t heard anything, if he plans to.” 

He nods his understanding, a sad smile across his face. 

A part of him had thought that there was a chance his father would be joining him. He’s an optimist at heart. But the other part of him knows his father wants nothing more than to marry him off so that he can teach his alpha husband how to lead the country and he can step down. 

Zayn walks him down to the dining room, leaving just before Harry enters the chambers with a promise to see him the following afternoon. The same daily routine that he’s grown used to, found comfort in since he was a child. 

“Hi, Sunshine,” His mother whispers, flashing a smile that reaches her eyes and panges through Harry’s chest. She looks better than she had the night before, the grey spots beneath her eyes faded. 

Twenty-one years prior, Harry’s eldest sister had died only five days after being born. She’d been born on a rainy day, a bad omen for royal babies that followed them through life. The rain delayed the family from giving her a name out of fear of the worst - and it had come true in a haste none of them expected.

_ Sunshine  _ came from the bright, abnormally sunny February day that Harry’s mother told him he’d been born on. 

"Hi, mum," 

"Sit, sit. I want to talk through some of the details of the ball with you. It's so exciting!" 

He sits with a polite smile, more focused on the flurry of movement of the staff around him than the way his mother drones on about what colors and themes and the important guests that will be attending. It's not that he doesn't care -- he likes to think that he does. He'd spent hours dreaming of it when he was a child, waiting and wishing for the day to come that he could finally wear a fancy outfit to a day meant to celebrate him. 

But as the day gets closer, every piece of that excitement he'd once felt seems to disappear. 

His mother doesn't notice that he's not listening for the duration of their meal time, asking him questions he can answer with a yes or a hum in place of anything thoughtful. 

That's the only thing that he feels bad about. He sees her excitement, remembers her stories of how excited she'd been when she'd had her ball in preparation to meet his father. But somehow that's the thing he dreads the most. An empty marriage. A life of wanting and wishing that his mate would show up for dinner and spend time with him and his future children. 

"Mum, can I be excused? I'm sorry, I'm not feeling too well."

"Oh, darling. Of course. It's the excitement flurries, I'm sure!" 

"Of course. Thank you." 

He goes to his room silently, the same hallways he's grown used to his entire life suddenly not familiar. Everything is changing and he can't fight against it, anymore. He knows he has a duty to the country, a birthright that he must fulfill in his brother's place, but it doesn't make it any easier. 

He doesn't think about the ball for the rest of the evening as he does his hair into braids and strips off his clothes in place for his evening clothes. 

As he does his readings and writes in his journal, he tries not to let his mind drift into the stories from the fantasy stories he used to come up with when he was a child. Thoughts of being in a different life, of falling in love and waking up every day feeling nothing but joy. Thoughts of a life filled with love and excitement. 

There are times he wonders if such stories are even real, if he considers it hard enough. He'd learned early on that his mother and father are not in love. His mum had always said that she loves him in a different way, something that can't happen except between two parents, and he'd accepted that. Brushed that reality off to the side out of the hopes that an alpha suitor would catch his eye at an event as a teenager and propose. 

Yet, he never so much as got the chance. Instead of eligible suitors, he spent his time surrounded by guards and escorts and alphas with the sole job of keeping anyone else from him. 

A loud bang echoes around in his room, a sudden crash followed by a deafening silence that sends him reeling out of his thoughts.

He pauses, heart rabbiting in his chest as he turns back to look at the emptiness around him. 

He found calm in the silence, but his nerves were on edge. 

The final ball before he's to be married is in six days time. In any other circumstance, Harry wouldn’t find any issue in a ball. His only trouble is that he's yet to meet the alpha that will take the throne beside him, and they’re meant to have their first dance at the peak of the evening. 

He's been groomed for this his entire life, years of propriety classes and ettiquite training; mannerisms of loyalty and beauty standards that rang true for all omegas of status. He’s certain he wants to be just as revered by the kingdom as he is trusted, as has been the goal for every omega that stood on the throne for the history of his family. 

Yet, he’s nervous. 

He ran the brush through his hair one final time, watching as the curls bounced up and down in a perfect spiral against his shoulder, taking him away from his thoughts. 

Three gentle knocks tapped on his door in quick succession.

"Come in," He says, voice too loud in the silence of his room. A young girl walks into his room, a large silver tray perched in her hand with a matching color teapot atop it. 

"Your tea, your highness.” She sets it down on the tea table just beside his vanity, pouring a cup with practiced hands. 

“Thank you, Mary.” 

She left wordlessly, quick footsteps tapping against the floor. 

He finishes three cups of tea, a cube of sugar each, before he decides to retire to bed. He looks himself in the mirror a final time, hair neat and soft and face groomed and smooth, but he doesn’t feel like himself. 

Perhaps he won’t be, in a week’s time. He’ll no longer be just himself. He’ll be a wife. A second hand to the throne, with the expectation to bear children in less than a year. 

He blows out the last of the candles that sit, attached with gold plated bronze plates to the walls, before he pads to bed. 

He pulls the duvet tightly around himself as the same, loud bang circles through his room. He jumps, sitting up in bed with wide eyes. 

It’s still empty, but his heart beats just as hard. 

He stands, smoothing out his nightdress as he climbs out of bed. 

His room is dark everywhere except the window where moonlight streams in, only half illuminating the room around him, but he tip toes over. 

With wide eyes and careful fingers, he pulls back the curtain. 

At the side of his window, a shutter had come loose. 

It smacks loud against the side of the castle wall just outside of his room with another resonating bang, yet he doesn’t jump. He laughs under his breath as ease flows through him, sighing to himself. 

When he turns around a man is sat at his vanity, twirling his silver comb between his fingers, replaced where it sat moments before on the vanity by a dagger of the same color. 

Harry could only stare, eyes wide. 

The man sat back comfortably, dressed in black day clothes that matched the uniform many of the guards wore around the halls. It all comes together in his mind in pieces, slowly coming together as he realizes what’s happening. Harry’s heart drops suddenly, spit gathering in his mouth as a lump forms in his throat. 

A silence drags between them for too long, or perhaps it isn’t long at all, Harry’s horrified expression slowly melting into confusion before the man breaks the silence. 

“It would be a bit cliche to come in through the broken shutter, wouldn’t it?” The man says as he stands, pushing the chair back flush against the vanity and taking the dagger back into his hand. 

The words don’t register for a moment. 

His voice is the first thing Harry notices: raspy, light, and sweet in a way that Harry has never heard from an alpha. The second thing is his scent: he can’t pull apart the distinct pieces, yet it feels like its nearly smothering him. 

He finds his words a few beats later. 

“If I scream right now, a guard will be in here in seconds.” 

“So why haven’t you?” Again, words won’t come. He’s spent so long listening that speaking almost feels foreign under the weight of the pressure of circumstance. 

The intruder stands there for too long before he reaches into his bag, pulling a length of rope into his hands. 

The darkness is too overpowering for Harry to make out any of the alpha’s features, rather he can only see the sweeping movement of his hands, his legs as he takes a step closer. Harry knows what’s happening, can see exactly how this is going to play out, but he almost doesn’t want to fight the idea. 

“Wait,” Harry starts. The words come faster than he intends, mouth moving before he can think through what he’s saying. “Let me get dressed and pack a bag. And then I will go with you.” 

“Right, and the king will escort us out and give me a tote of gold.” 

A wave of heat spreads over his face at the comment, embarrassment flooding over him. He doesn’t consider himself stupid and he’s aware that his offer sounds ridiculous, yet he can’t help but want to go.

“You have no place to mock me when I’m offering to go with you willingly.” He wraps his arms around himself, eyebrows drawn down. 

“You have no place to assume I believe you.” 

Harry supposes that’s fair enough. But he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to convince him that going with him and being whatever prisoner he’s intending to keep him as will feel like less than the prison of expectations put on top of him. 

Even if he’s well aware that whatever ransom his alpha asks for will be paid almost immediately for him to be returned home, the break from it all will be a reprieve, a moment away from the constant monotony of it all. 

“You asked why I hadn’t called for a guard. There’s two stationed three meters just down the hall and another on the opposite side. They’d hear me if I shouted right now. That’s how you can believe me.” 

The alpha looks him over for a moment, but he puts his rope away. 

“Fine. Let’s go.” 

“I have to get dressed. It’s rather rude to see an omega in such undress, you know.” 

“Oh, my apologies, your highness. I hadn’t considered the pleasantries involved with abduction.” Harry scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “You have one minute. Then we’ll be leaving, regardless of your state of dress.” 

“I can’t -” He bites back his words when he realizes the alpha is already waiting, eyes widening as he moves to his wardrobe and pulls his day clothes into a bag. 

Harry is fast in taking the robe from his shoulders, pulling a pair of tight trousers over his legs with a shirt lined with flowing lace. It’s far from anything he would consider appropriate to wear outside, but it’s all he has time to manage. 

He turns back when he’s dressed to see the alpha’s head turned away, eyes cast towards the door even though his body still faces him. 

“Finished?” 

“I suppose.”

“Alright. Let’s go, then.” The alpha walks to the balcony, ushering Harry to follow him with a hand on his back. He flinches away from the touch at first, but the alpha either doesn’t notice or doesn’t take mind to it. Standing at the edge and looking down, the ground feels further away than it ever has, a pit forming in his stomach. 

“What happened to the balcony being cliche?” 

“I said going  _ in  _ the balcony would be cliche, not going out.” 

The alpha pauses, looking to him again. "Are you afraid of heights?"

"I haven't particularly put thought into it in the past, but standing up here and looking down is a bit unsettling. Yes." 

"It's easy. Hold on, and don't fall." The alpha wraps his arms tightly around Harry's waist, gripping onto a rope at the same time. "I have to hold this, so wrap your legs around me and your arms on my neck." 

Harry wants to say something about this being the closest he's ever been to an alpha, that this is too much for him to handle when he's never so much as been left in a room unaccompanied with an unmated alpha, but instead, he does as he's told. He thinks about how things can be delayed when he returns. How the country can gossip about their prince's safe return instead of his wedding, how it will stir things just enough to allow him to have a few weeks longer without worrying about marriage. 

It's selfish, yet he still puts his arms around the alpha. 

Then they're descending. It's slow going, but the movements feel practiced and easy, even as a passenger. 

On the ground, the alpha pulls the guard mask back over his face, dagger tucked into his pants as he walks. 

The two of them walk away from the stables, towards the treeline just as the side of the castle that he's rarely gone to on foot. 

It’s a short walk, but Harry can’t help but look around, waiting for a guard to see them and catch the two of them before they get off the property. 

Only no one does, and then they’re beyond the treeline and into the new world that Harry has voluntarily given himself over to. 

Barely five meters into the trees is a horse, unbound, eating a pile of apples left on the ground. 

"I assume you've ridden before?"

"Of course." 

"Get on, then." 

He slides his foot into the foot rest on the saddle, swinging his legs over the horse and settling himself at the back of it, watching as the alpha does the same. "I'm going to tie your hands in front of my waist. Wrap them around me, now."

Only then does he remember he's being taken away from home and that this isn't something he should be celebrating. That he's put himself in direct danger, that he could be hurt and his family could have no one to pass the throne on to -- and it makes his heart beat fast. 

"I can tell you're nervous. I'm not going to hurt you. If you fall asleep and fall off you're going to get hurt, and we're riding several hours."

His explanation only slightly puts him at ease, but he agrees anyway, wrapping his arms around his waist and linking his hands. A soft rope snakes around his wrists, loose enough that he can move them and not worry about losing sensation, but tight enough that he can't pull them apart. 

The alpha taps the horses' leg twice in quick succession, and then she's running. Faster than Harry's ever gone by horseback, wind whipping through his hair. 

"Can I know your name?" 

"You can call me Louis." 

It puts him at ease all over again. Somehow knowing his name makes him feel more human, less like an entity. He shuffles behind him, still unable to find comfort in the closeness. 

“Where are we going?” 

“Doesn’t really matter, does it?” 

He imagines not. 

Eventually, he zones out with the hypnotic rhythm of the hoses trot. It’s peaceful, the silence breaking around them under the sound of it. The two of them don’t speak again as they go, emptiness hanging between them. 

He doesn’t let himself sleep, though. Sleep feels too vulnerable, too close to an alpha he doesn’t know. Even if he’s been promised that he won’t be hurt, a part of him still feels the need to be alert, to keep watching everything around him. 

Louis had said it would take hours to arrive wherever they were going - but it doesn't feel so long. He watches the way the stars pass as they travel, watches the trees as they move, watches as trees transition to dark towns that he knows will spring to life come morning. 

Louis slows the horse as they travel towards a small building, illuminated on the outside by a lit fire with several men sat around it. 

It's awkward for a moment as Louis undoes the ropes around his wrists. He rubs them, clenching his fists and twisting his shoulders as the sensation slowly comes back to them. He waits until Louis steps off of the horse to follow suit, heart beating harder in his chest again with the new people he's about to meet. People he can't guarantee are going to be as kind as Louis has been to him, and that sends waves of anxiety through him in ways he can't describe. 

"Sit. Eat something," Louis say first, motioning towards the logs that are positioned around the fire in a circle as make-shift chairs. 

He does as he's told, though his movements are hesitant. 

Louis sits beside him, on the next log over, pulling a spoon of what looks like a stew from over the fire into a bowl and handing it to Harry. "It's certainly not going to be the kind of food you're used to, but it'll do you well." 

He scoops another portion into a second bowl and keeps it on his own lap. 

"These are some of the people you're going to be familiar with during your time with us. Micheal, David, Sam, Niall, Liam." As he mentions each name, he points at who it is, but the names don't stay in Harry's mind. He figures it doesn't matter too much, knowing they're likely to draft whatever letter they need to write up to send to the palace the next day. 

He doesn't say anything else. 

The silence that he'd gotten used to during their ride to the camp was broke, filled with conversation and life that he felt he didn't belong to. Yet a part of it felt so free, so open in a way he's never experienced with anyone except Zayn. 

Zayn. 

Guilt grips him too suddenly, clenching hard in his stomach as he realizes his best friend is going to be just as heartbroken and worried about him as his parents. He wonders if anyone will tell him before he shows up to collect him, or if he'll be the first to nice. He wonders if anyone will notice he's completely gone before dinner, or if they'll assume he's gone off to the garden to have some alone time. 

He's not sure which feels like it would hurt less. 

"The five of us are going to go inside and have a chat. You can stay out here with Niall for the time being. If you need anything, ask him." 

He nods, shrugging. 

He watches as all of them except for a blonde alpha - who looks to be the youngest of all of them - move, going inside of the tiny, dark cabin. Only once the door is closed behind them does a candle light inside, bringing a gentle yellow light to the windows. 

"You done eating?" Niall asks. "I'm gonna cut your hair." 

"What? No you're not. I like my hair." 

"Got orders to follow from the boss. Sorry." 

The pit of anxiety only grows in his stomach at that. "Why? You lot aren't going to have me for all that long. Just let me be, get your money, I go home." 

"Come on. Don't make this hard." 

Harry frowns, shoulders hunched forwards as he looks down into his lap. He doesn't say anything else, just lets Niall stand behind him, listening as the knife passes over his long hair with a sickening slicing sound. 

Long hair has long since been a sign of regality in omegas. A part of him had been excited to be able to separate himself from that identity, just slightly, when he left. Yet, losing it entirely had never been a part of the plan. 

He looks to the ground as long, thick pieces fall into the dirt. He frowns again, forcing any feeling of wetness in his eyes back as it continues. 

Slice. Slice. Slice. It's a horrible sound, something he hasn't heard in years and never wants to hear again. 

"Alright. There ya go, mate." 

Without a mirror, he has no way to confirm or deny it, but he just shrugs. 

It's insurance that he won't have to go to the ball when he gets home, that's the only thing he knows for sure. His mother wouldn't let him near a public function with short hair no matter what. 

"Niall, right?" He asks as the boy sits down in the same spot he'd been in before. "What did you do to earn babysitting duty?" 

That gets a laugh out of him and Harry gives an attempt at a smile. 

"Nothing. I've heard everything they're talking about. It's nothing new for me, they're just going over some things Louis needs to know for the next few days." 

He knows there's no point in asking any further questions, knowing it's not his place, not his friends. But he still holds on to every piece of information he can pull out of anyone.

Instead of asking other questions, he finds himself looking around once again. The camp is completely secluded. Darkness completely around them in every part except for the light from the window and their fire. Darkness. Quiet. 

He's never experienced quiet like this before, and it's unnerving. 

"You okay?" 

"It's so quiet. How do you get used to it?" 

"I enjoy the quiet moments. It's rarely quiet with the boys around, and they're around more often than not. The loud is what I've had to get used to." 

"I've had plenty of that. This is what's new."

It doesn’t take long after that for the others to come back outside, joining them back around the fire and picking up on their banter as if they’d never left. Harry stares at the fire, listening to the easy way they talk once again. 

He imagines himself born in a different life. Without rules, without a constant, unwanted presence surrounding him. It’s another one of those fantasies that he shunned as a teenager, that he had to tuck away deep within himself when it became his responsibility to take the throne. 

Louis turns to him before long. “Your hair is nice short. I do apologize for needing to do that. It’s going to help keep your identity private when we going in to town.” 

“My mum is going to burn the town down over it.” Louis’ eyes go wide in horror. “Sorry. Just an expression. She won’t.” He pauses for a moment. “I’ve never had it short, before.” 

“A status thing, right?”

“More of an omega status thing in particular.” 

It feels too easy to talk to Louis. Too familiar, despite knowing nothing about him. 

It only catches his attention that Louis speaks in the same way he’s heard from those around him his entire life. It gets stronger when he’s not surrounded by the group, formal words taking place of the slang words he uses when it’s not just the two of them. 

“What?” The alpha asks after Harry’s been staring at him for too long. Harry doesn’t say anything. Instead, he turns his gaze down to the bowl of soup in front of him, toying at one of the burnt carrots stuck to the edge of it. 

“Sorry.” His eyes have been drooping since before he sat down in front of the fire, and the warmth from it only intensifies the feeling. 

“I’ll show you to where you can sleep.”

He stands, following Louis inside the cabin quietly. 

Inside, there are six cots spread out around the floor all in varying degrees of put togetherness. 

The one that looks the cleanest is the one Louis points him towards. “You want me to sleep… in a room full of alphas?” 

“You’ll be fine. They’re good people.” 

He knows protest won’t get him anywhere, so he just sighs his understanding. “Okay. Good night.” 

He’s left alone in the darkness as he stares at all of the beds around him. He pushes his mother’s voice, chastising him for being so close to so many alphas, out of his mind as he crawls into the bed. 

Exhaustion takes the place of his racing thoughts before too long. 

  
  
  


Morning comes and Harry expects to wake in his normal bed once again. He doesn’t, and the reality doesn't hit as hard as he expected it to. He takes a long moment to orient himself, back twinging with the pain from sleeping on the ground. 

He's alone in the cabin, makeshift beds unmade and cups and bowls from their dinner the night previous piled high on a table in a corner. He sits up, rolling his shoulders to ease some of the pain deep in them. 

A new pair of clothes have been folded and left for him at the foot of the bed, so he changes into them quickly, pulling the cloth over his body fast before the door opens. 

Outside almost feels familiar, the same scene from the night before with the fire lit and a kettle hung over it, a mix of foods all folded together on a cast iron skillet beside it. 

Louis is shirtless, fastening his bags to the saddle of a horse. 

Harry's eyes widen for a moment, heart skipping a beat as he reatrets back into the cabin. 

He's never seen an alpha in any state of undress, and it makes his head spin. 

He takes a moment, orienting himself before he's back outside, trying to keep his gaze anywhere but on Louis. 

"Mornin," One of the alphas who's name he can't remember says from the fire, poking at the mash of food over the fire with a spatula that's seen better days. 

"Good morning," Harry echoes, looking over the camp with the new perspective that daylight allows. It looks much the same as it had in the darkness of fire light, but it feels different. Less threatening. More like he doesn't mind being surrounded by it. 

"Good mornin’, princess," Louis says, walking past him with a cordial nod of his head as he goes back into the cabin. 

Harry has more questions than he thinks Louis would be wiling to answer, but he doesn't follow him. Instead, he sits opposite the alpha at the fire, watching the way the embers crackle into the air, burning a bright shade of orange before fading into grey. 

"You're packing," He says when Louis finally joins them, clothed, this time. 

"Your observation skills are excellent." 

"So you're not just a cheeky fuck when you're threatening me with a knife?" 

Louis whistles low, followed by a few other laughs from the rest of the camp. 

"And you've got a mouth on you. Never would have thought."

Harry's quiet for a beat, trying to think of what exactly he wants to say when he knows he looks like a fool, cheeks burning red under the scrutiny. "If you must know, we're travelling again today."

"Where?"

"Don't ask so many questions."

He's quiet after that, too used to the same words. 

"I don't mind the questioning once we get to trust each other. For now, you should just get comfortable with us lot. Niall and Liam are coming with us. The others aren’t, for now.”

Something about that feels more refreshing. 

"Right. Okay." 

The ones who’s names he can't remember leave after they've eaten their breakfast, handshakes and hugs shared with the rest of the group just before they go. It takes a moment before one of them acknowledges him, and for a moment it takes Harry by surprise. He looks up from his food when he realizes that he's being addressed, eyebrows slightly drawn down. 

"It was good to meet you, lad. We'll see you again in a few weeks, I suppose"

"Right. Thanks."

Motion surrounds him all over again. 

Everyone else packs their items into bags, tying them tightly to horses and moving with practiced ease around the camp. 

"You want to help?" Louis asks after a while, using the back of his hand to wipe sweat away from his forehead. 

Harry should say no. He should be as much of a problem as Louis has caused in his life, yet he feels restless. He feels like he needs to do something instead of sitting and watching, like an itch has buried itself beneath his skin. 

"Um, okay," He replies, stacking his barely touched plate of food on top of the other plates just beside the fire. 

"You can put out the fire for now. Poke the embers with this," Louis hands him a large stick that's charred on the end, "until the flames stop. Then pour water over it so it doesn't come back." 

It's not a lot, but it's something, and for that Harry is grateful. 

He moves any unburned sticks away from the flame and pokes at the embers in the sand for a while, mixing the red char with the dirt just beneath it until it slowly starts to lose it's luminance. It's slow, but it gives him something to focus on other than the constant swirl of movement around him. 

He's never done well with feeling excluded, and this isn't an exception. 

He tries not to let his mind wonder while he sits there, toying with a fire surrounded by strangers in the middle of the woods, yet he can't help it. 

He wonders what his father is thinking. All he can imagine is that he's still in his office, thinking that Harry's run away, that he's run off to shuck off his responsibilities to be lazy, to bring dishonor to their family. 

He supposes that's not entirely untrue, but thinking of it makes his stomach swirl with shame. 

He knows he shouldn't have left with Louis. He should have put up a fight, should have called for a guard or done something to get himself out of the situation. Yet, the appeal of leaving it all behind, of doing something he'd never done before had been so strong, so impossible to ignore that he couldn't fight it. 

Sitting on the ground with a group of alphas around him, untouched and unharmed, only makes him feel more like he's made the correct decision.

He hopes his mother is doing alright and that she hasn't taken it too hard. 

That thought hits the hardest, the idea of her worrying over him making him tense, a wave of nausea passing through him before it fades off. 

He looks down to the fire once he quiets his thoughts, hand moving the stick on autopilot, thoughts far away from his physical form. All of the color has gone from the fire, red and orange specks that had been at the bottom of it minutes previously completely smothered by the dirt. He takes the canteen of water that Louis had pointed at and douses it over the entire hole still, just in case, and wipes the dirt from his hands onto his pants once he's done. 

“Let’s go, then.” 

He still can’t help but want to know where - but he doesn’t ask again. 

Louis gets onto the horse first, this time, holding a hand out to help Harry up. He climbs on easily, settling himself in behind the alpha just as the other two join them. They move slower than he and Louis had the night before, a steady jog of movement before they’re on a foot beaten path. 

“How far is the journey today?” He asks in place of asking where they’re going. He knows better than to ask a question after he’s been told not to ask it. 

“Less than half a day.” 

“Will we be moving around every day?” 

“No. Only when we need to.” 

It’s not as easy to zone out in the daylight, too caught up in the conversation between the three alphas around him. But after a while, he gets back into his head. The thoughts of his mother are the loudest. He knows she’ll be the first to catch word of his disappearance. 

He’s drawn from his thoughts when he hears his name. “What do you think, Harry?” 

“What? Sorry.” 

“Food. Niall’s always hungry. Stopping won’t take long but it’s a delay, either way.” 

“Um. Can we wait until we get to where we’re going?”

“A man of sense.” Niall groans, a clearly over dramatic sound, but doesn’t say anything else about it. 

He feels more included in the conversation after that. They ask him questions, try to fill him in on anything he doesn’t understand - and all of it makes him feel at ease. 

It doesn’t take long before they’re slowing down again, a town coming into sight just ahead. The town isn’t familiar, but it looks just like every other town that Harry has passed through, people making their way around and going about their day with ease. 

Louis moves his horse and mounts her at a building, tying her up with a loose knot and a pet on her head as the two of them dismount. 

“Down you come, princess,” Louis says, taking Harry’s hand to help him jump down a bit softer. Harry just glares lightly, ignoring the reached out hand and jumping down on his own. Louis shrugs, but doesn’t mention it again. 

“Let’s walk. Boys, meet us back at the room later.” 

Laundry is strung on lines sprawl across the town like arteries, the sign of permanent life and vibrance echoed by the crowds of people filling the streets. 

Harry had only been to the town just outside of the palace twice before, and both times had been with an escort of guards for his entire family. It had drawn attention and made people step away with fear of disrupting their travels. 

Walking through town with Louis, surrounded by life is different. No one spares them a second glance and Harry basks in the feeling of blending in. A loud bell chimes three times overhead, drawing Harry’s attention towards a church bell at the center of town. 

“Is that for church?” Harry asks, eyes drawn to the tower where the bell twirls slowly. “Should we-” 

“We call it the death bell,” Louis says, cutting the intent of Harry’s words short as he speaks again, “Every Sunday, just before church, bodies pile up near the stables, waiting to be buried.” 

Harry isn’t sure what day it is, but a single body lays beside the stables to their left, paperwhite and eerily still. His breath catches in his throat as he stares, eyes wide and cast down at the sight of it. 

“What’s wrong with them? Are they sick?”

“They’re starving to death.” 

Harry’s eyes go wide, but he bites his lip. “Oh, Christ.” They keep walking, and as they go, Harry keeps seeing bodies discarded at the sides of buildings. “What’s happening?”

“There’s no money. Taxes went up and it only hurt those who were already struggling in the first place.” It doesn’t surprise him, with his father. He’s never known him to be a kind man, and he’s heard enough from others to know that there have been people who aren’t happy with the laws he enacts. 

But he never thought it could be so bad. 

“Why are you showing me this?”

“You’re going to see it a lot. Get used to it and stop looking so surprised. It draws attention.” 

The rest of their walk is quiet, Harry trying not to stare when he sees a family hauling yet another body onto the back of a cart. His heart twists, but he keeps forward. 

Louis walks them to an inn, a big building with two lanterns hung outside and enough candles inside that light up the rest of the interior. Another alpha sits at a table, chatting with another patron over pints of beer when he notices Louis and grins, “Louis! Lovely to see you mate!” His accent is heavy, thick and slurred with the alcohol. 

“Nick, good to see you. Are the boys here?” 

“In the back! Room for tonight for you lot?” 

“Two, if you’ve got them.” 

“On it, lad. See you later.” 

At the back of where Harry assumes is for the general public is a tall, wooden door. Louis unlocks it with a key around a necklace on his neck, pulling it open and offering Harry to go in first. Niall and Liam are laughing at something at a table illuminated by several oil lamps when they walk in. 

Harry’s still reeling from what they’d seen in town when they sit at the table in the room, Niall setting out loaves of bread between them with butter. “When are you going to ask for the money? How long do you plan to drag this out?” A thick tension fills the air with that, Harry’s outburst causing a shocked silence to fall over the group. 

“What are you talking about?” Louis nods his head towards the door, a signal even Harry picks up on as he sits there, anger bubbling in his chest. Niall and Liam get up, food abandoned, leaving the two of them alone. He can smell the way his own scent changes slightly with the emotion, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“That’s what this is, right? You’re going to write my father and tell him you’ll deliver me home safely if he gives you what - One thousand pounds? Two? Ten? He does it. I go home. We all go our separate ways.” 

“You don’t need to know our plans, but that’s not our intentions. You’ll be tagging along with us for the time being.” 

Harry’s heart sinks deep into his stomach at that. 

“That’s not how this works,” He cuts in. 

“Who are you to tell me how this works? Last I checked you came with me willingly without asking questions.”

“No. No, that’s not. You can’t. I’m getting married in a month’s time. This wasn’t - you can’t.” Something Harry can only assume is panic fills his stomach, but he forces himself to swallow it down. It turns his stomach sour, makes him feel small and trapped. As much as he’s gotten used to feeling trapped, it’s different. A kind of trapped where he doesn’t feel stuck in routine, but stuck in the unknown, and he can’t decide which one is worse. 

“Listen, princess, I know this is your first time ever being told no. But you’re going to need to get used to it. I call the shots, now, and that’s that.” 

“Stop calling me princess,”He bites back after a beat too long. 

“Where would the fun in that be?” 

His face burns at the embarrassment of being shut down so easily. Louis' easy way of voice, the way he doesn't seem bothered by anything, it gets under Harry's skin in ways he's never experienced. 

He doesn't understand what his purpose with the group is, if not for money. He'd been certain the entire time that they would hold him for a few days -- a week, maybe -- and then take him home without so much as a second thought. He hadn't considered the possibility of staying long term. Hadn't thought of how it could impact his family or the crown or his name if he were to disappear for a longer amount of time. 

He couldn't even be sure if Louis had found contact with his father or not, or if their little group had just decided to leave him and everyone else entirely in the dark about all of it. Something doesn't sit right in his stomach about the entire plan, about everything happening and how easily the group seems to go along with what Louis' said. 

He's figured out that Louis is in charge of whatever little operation they have going on without too much thought. The way everyone seems to gravitate towards him and listen to what he says without questioning it shows that much clearly. 

The only thing he can't manage to figure out is what role he plays in all of this. If he's not ransom, what purpose does he hold?

His stomach twists at the thought of them threatening to hurt him if they don't get their way, some political pawn in a game he didn't intend to be a piece in. 

Louis had promised he wouldn't hurt him, but Harry isn't sure if he can trust that. 

All he can keep telling himself is that he never should have gone with the alpha. That he should have shouted, should have called for someone. 

He tries to think back to what exactly he'd be doing right now if he were to be at the palace, still. 

A dress fitting, maybe. 

Getting ready for his ball. 

Getting his hair done. 

That thought makes him reach up to his head, fingers running through where his hair had been less than a day before, emptiness now taking its spot. It breaks his heart, the more he thinks about it. 

The silence between him and Louis stays thick as the alpha slices pieces of bread and puts three pieces onto a plate in front of Harry, dividing the loaves into equal portions and leaving whatever's left directly on the table in the center between the four seats. It doesn't take long before the other two are back with them, taking their seats once again as if they'd never left. 

Harry picks at the bread, stomach-turning with hunger. He’s never been hungry in his life, but he keeps thinking back to all of the people, dead on the street because they couldn’t afford a shilling for a loaf of bread. 

"It's not good, but it's something. You'll get used to it," Louis says, voice too gentle for the way the tension still feels between them. 

"Hey, it's not that bad. Cost me a shilling each!" Niall says, grinning. 

“It’s not that bad,” Harry shrugs, ripping a piece away and putting it into his mouth. It’s not, really. He’s just used to being different. To living whatever life he’s going to be living for however long Louis decides to keep him. 

Niall turns to him next, breaking the tension with a too-big smile for the nervousness that still sits in Harry’s chest. “So, Harry. Got any crazy stories from royal life you want to share?” 

“I think our definitions of crazy might be a little different.”

“Let's hear it, princess,” Louis chimes in, breaking off a piece of his own bread. 

Harry tells the only story of his childhood he can think of that he thinks someone else might find funny. Everything else feels boring, stale and nothing anyone else would want to hear. 

He decides to tell them about the time he’d been a boy, only six or seven, and he’d decided to run away from home. He’d been upset that his mother wouldn’t let him take one of the ducks from the pond home as a pet after they fed them little pieces of grapes, packed a bag, and went to the gardens. 

“How long were you even out there?” Liam asks, grinning through a laugh. 

“Less than twenty minutes, probably. Then of course I ran inside and begged my mum to forgive me for running away and that I missed her. I don’t even think she’d caught on that I was gone….yet.” He tries not to think about it in how it applies to the current situation. 

“Think I did something similar to me mum once. I was sick of whatever she made for dinner, took off. Said I’d find another mum to make me something other than roast and bread,” Niall said, laughing. It took the edge off, and by the end of it, even Louis had a small smile on his face. 

“I think I left the gates open for the pigs once when I was a kid?” Liam says next. “I was too young to chase them, but I did enjoy watching my older brothers chase them around and get all muddy.” They all laugh at that, the image of baby Liam standing back and watching a group of teenagers running around in the mud enough to send them into a fit over it. 

“And you, Louis?” Harry asks once it dies down. 

“I don’t think I have anything interesting.” A pause stills between them. “Harry, let’s go. Boys, stay down here. I’ll be back shortly.” 

Harry knits his eyebrows down, a little frown on his face as he looks at the alpha. But he goes, anyway, following him out through the same lobby they came in. The same alpha from earlier - Nick, Harry thinks, tosses Louis a key as he walks, cutting a hard left to go up a set of creaky wooden stairs.

All the way down the hall, Louis slides the key into the door and pushes it open. 

Louis sighs heavily as they both look over the room, a single bed with a table at each side of the bed with an oil lamp. A desk is tucked into the corner, but it’s empty, otherwise. 

“This is-” 

Louis cut him off with a sleep heavy voice, “Temporary. You’ll have your own bed tomorrow evening. For now, get settled, and I’ll be back later.” 

“You’re leaving me alone  _ again _ ?” Harry can’t help but be exasperated by it, by the fact that Louis took him hostage only to leave him alone at every chance he gets. He’d thought he would get some kind of excitement, not being stuck in a room on his own all over again. Being alone in a room all the time had been the exact reason he wanted to leave the palace, take a break from the quiet. Yet this felt no different. 

“What else do you propose I do? I’m not taking you with us.” 

Harry can’t explain the disappointment he feels blooming through him at the thought of being left alone all over again. He thinks that being with someone had been one of his main motivators to going with Louis - that having attention, even if not the kind that he’d ever thought he wanted - and not having it makes him feel hollow. Makes all of this feel purposeless. 

“Fine. Have a good evening,” He says in place of a sassy remark. 

For a moment, the alpha looks like he wants to say something in response. He hoovers there, just for a beat too long, and then he's turning out the door. 

Harry listens to the door click locked from the outside and sits himself on the foot of the bed, sighing softly. 

He sits there for a while, staring out the window as the sun slowly sets and the pinks and purples of the setting sun sky fade to dark. Only once it's too dark to see around the room comfortably does he stand, lighting the oil lamps on either side of the bed with a match that had been left beneath them. 

It brings a glow to the room, showing the yellowing of the walls where the humid air pulls at the paint. 

He opens the window next, breathing in the way the air feels like the ocean, crisp with a hint of salt in the cold night air. 

He opens it further, peeking his head through the opening. Just beneath the window is a second roof, lined with peeling tiles just as abused from the sea mixed air as the walls. He thinks he could climb out, if he wanted to, just take a step onto the platform beneath him and drop to the ground. 

It's tempting. 

For too long he's let himself be stuck in rooms, even if in other parts of his life the doors weren't locked after him, the way the locks were always there, holding him back - even if not physically - made him uncomfortable. Claustrophobic. He wants to run away from it all, wants to find a life where he can be free and feel like he's not being held back. 

He knows it was naive to believe that going with the first random alpha that appeared in his room would grant him all of the wishes that he wanted of freedom. The romanticism of the idea had been too strong, and the longer he finds himself staring out the window, the more the idea feels appealing all over again. 

He pulls his body through the window, looking down to the ground with wide eyes. The fall is higher than it looks from the inside, too high for it not to at least sting his feet if he were to jump. 

So, instead of jumping, he sits on the roof and watches. 

In between two buildings, he can see the ocean. The foam piles up high on the rocky beach. 

He's never seen the ocean. 

He's been close enough to find the smell familiar, to feel nostalgia about something he's never experienced, but even from the nearly-too-far distance he is away from the water, he feels his heart pull. 

The part of him that wants to run away -- to run away from his running away -- knows it's irrational. He knows the danger of being an omega on his own out at night, knows that he likely wouldn't make it home unharmed. 

Yet, the appeal is still there.

It gets too dark to see anything around him before too long. 

Lights in houses along the shore slowly start to fade to darkness as the moonlight grows stronger in the sky. Movement stops on the streets below him and the same quiet from the towns that he and Louis had passed through that first night falls back over the town. 

He crawls back inside, the temptation for danger satisfied enough. 

He can't understand exactly where the appeal for the danger comes from, why he feels the need to feel excitement, thrill. He wants to experience something other than the monotony of his life, and the realization that even handing himself over so fully can't guarantee that makes something inside of him sink. 

The window closes with a loud click and the silence feels less overwhelming in a closed off room. 

Exhaustion creeps down his shoulders in that moment, eyes feeling just heavy enough that the thought of getting into bed feels more appealing. 

He pulls back the blanket on the too-small-for-two bed and jams himself up against the wall, stuffing two pillows under his head as he stares up at the wall. 

He can't help but wonder what Louis and his group are doing. What a life without restrictions must be and feel like, when every rule is set only by those who are doing what they like. 

The door opens too quickly, a second light coming in from the hallway and flooding over the slowly burning out lamps on the sides of the bed. 

"You need anything?" It's Niall, he realizes through squinted eyes, dressed in completely black clothes and holding a lantern in his hand. 

"Babysitting duty again?" 

"If you keep calling that I might have to start believing it, you know." Niall smiles as he stands in the dark hallway, lamp light illuminating his face. 

“What is Louis doing?”

All he gets in response to that is a gentle sigh as Niall looks down the hallway behind him and comes inside, shutting the door behind him. “He’s a good lad.”

“I never said otherwise.” 

“He’s a bit private about our work. Doesn’t like to talk about it with anyone who’s not directly involved.” There’s a pause between them for a moment. “That involves me, even, sometimes. Since I’m the newest here.”

“That explains the babysitting, then.” He gets an eye roll with a smile in response to that. "I don't think I need anything, though." 

"Alright, lad. Have a good night, then." 

Harry doesn't know how to respond to that, so he doesn't. The door closes between them in the silence after a while, leaving him alone with his thoughts all over again. 

He turns on his side and faces the wall, closing his eyes and trying to think of something else. Of something better. 

When he'd been young, he'd imagined himself as a pirate. He'd thought the idea of traveling the seas and doing anything he wanted would be freeing. He'd told his mother about those stories, once, and she'd humored him until he got too old and had to learn that anyone who lives a life like that is opposing the crown. Opposing them and the way their family has chosen to run the country.

He wonders what his father would think about the way Louis lives. 

As much as he doesn't know what they do, he's fully aware that they aren't honest men who navigate the world in the way that anyone Harry has ever met does. 

He wonders if they’ll ever trust him enough to tell the real details of what they’ve done, of what they do. Of how they came to live the life they’ve chosen for themselves. 

It's an eerie mixture between barely any time and the kind of long, quiet wait that Harry's never been able to handle before there's sound in the room again. He keeps his breathing even, soft and slow so that it looks like he’s asleep. 

He thinks Louis believes it, but the way he keeps his footsteps quiet and gentle as it sounds like he’s changing his clothes. 

It barely takes any time before the alpha is crawling in to bed beside him and Harry feels the way his own body tenses up, discomfort from the unfamiliarity of it all settling all over him. He feels small beneath the weight of the duvet and against the distant heat radiating off of Louis’ body, completely surrounding him. 

His scent is overwhelming from so close. 

It’s smoke over a campfire, the smell of evergreen trees in the wind, the metallic tang of the air before a lightning strike. 

“I’m sorry about this. Try and sleep, if you can,” Louis finally says, and he sounds exhausted. “Good night.” 

“Good night.” Harry’s mouth feels dry when he speaks, but it’s not uncomfortable. 

  
  
  


He wakes to a feeling of calm and warm surrounding him. 

It's a slow rise into consciousness as he opens his eyes. 

Then, suddenly he's awake, completely mortified by the way he realizes he's managed to stick his face right into the croock of the alpha's neck, nose pressed onto the junction between his neck and shoulder where his scent is the strongest. 

He pulls away too fast, smacking his head back against the headboard with a groan. 

"You alright?" Louis asks, awake and reading a book in one hand, another resting under his head. He's fully clothed, just as Harry is, yet Harry feels more exposed than he ever has. 

"Jesus, ouch. I'm sorry. I didn't - I didn't mean to do that." His face burns from how red and hot it feels, the heat pooling at it's worst on his cheeks but spreading down his chest and up to the tips of his ears with embarrassment. 

"Don't worry about it. Just natural, isn't it?" Louis asks, voice too calm in the way it's been every time he's spoken since Harry met him. The calmness doesn't give way to any kind of emotion and that stirs a worse kind of embarrassment in Harry's stomach. 

There's something so much worse about being ignored than there is about embarrassing himself, and he can't figure out why. 

He sits up, moving back from the headboard where he'd hit his head and rolling his shoulders back from the same soreness that he assumes is from sleeping on the floor. 

"Um. Right." 

It doesn't feel appropriate to tell Louis that he's the first alpha he's ever been so close to, that he's the first alpha he's ever been able to scent like that and his body feels like it's going to short circuit if he gets to do it any longer. No matter how much he craves the idea of going right back to putting his nose against Louis' neck, he forces himself away. 

He's thankful he didn't get hard, at least. 

"You can sleep a while longer, if you want. I don't plan on getting up for a bit." 

"I've always gotten up with the sun. Don't think I'm much of the type to sleep in." Louis hums his acknowledgement, licks his finger, and folds down a page of the book he's been reading before he closes it and sets it down on the table just beside the bed. "Will we be traveling again today?"

"Why?"

"You said I'd have my own bed for tonight. I assume that means we're going somewhere else." 

Something in his brain says he hopes they don't move, that they can stay like this so that his omega can keep getting his fill of being surrounded by an alpha, but the rational part of his brain knows he shouldn't. He shouldn't let himself get used to Louis' scent, shouldn't put himself in the position to be in any kind of pain when he's found or returned home, no matter how far that is away. 

"Well. We'll be moving rooms, but we will be staying in town for the time being." 

For some reason, it's not exactly what Harry wanted to hear. 

He finds himself wondering exactly what Louis plans for him in between the times of them laying in bed together and where he goes when he leaves him alone. There's too much that he doesn't know and even more than he wants to know about the alpha, yet he only seems to find himself left in the dark every time he finds himself wondering the answer to yet another question. 

"Oh," He says in lieu of an answer. "Well, what are you doing to be doing, then?"

"Does it really matter?" He was expecting an answer nothing unlike what the alpha gave, but for some reason, he still feels the need to be defensive, to question why he feels such a need to leave him in the dark. He furrows his eyebrows and narrows his eyes just slightly as the alpha gets up from the bed, the weight shifting beside him an unfamiliar sensation. 

"It matters to me when I'm left here on my own with nothing to do." 

"You can find something to occupy yourself, I'm sure."

"Even if I can, I still want to know."

"It's business related. Nothing an omega needs to worry about."

"Oh, you're going to blame my sex on it, right." Harry scoffs, pulling himself out of bed, too. He's never been so argumentative, yet Louis makes him want to fight against everything he has to say. 

Perhaps it's the frustration of the lack of control, or maybe he's just always been a little but lit this and has just never had the chance to act on it. He doesn't like to think about that, so instead he just crosses his arms over his chest with a scowl. 

"Yes. Would you like me to come up with a better excuse, instead?"

"If it's something that isn't to do with the fact that I'm just an incompetent omega, then yes."

"I never said you're incompetent. Stop putting words in my mouth," Louis sighs, running a hand over his face. 

"Stop saying them and I wouldn't have to." 

"You're insufferable."

"Then just tell me what I want to hear."

"No." 

Harry's been told no many times in his life, but never quite so directly, and it still takes him back, for some reason. 

"No?"

"That's what I said.'

"And I'm the insufferable one?" That gets a breathy laugh from the alpha just before he grabs a bundle of clothes from a bad that Harry hadn't noticed before, handing a fresh pair of trousers over to him and keeping a second pair for himself. 

"Just change your clothes and stop being annoying on purpose."

"Who says it's on purpose?"

"I think you know it's on purpose, and whatever you're getting at isn't going to work if this is your strategy. Just keep that in mind." 

Harry sighs again, reaching to open the blinds on the same window he'd crawled out of the night before. A part of him almost thinks it would have been the best option, as he lays there alone once again. 

  
  


In the new room Louis had the two of them moved to, nothing changes. 

The only difference between the two rooms is that the first had the second roof just beneath it for him to sit on, while the new one is empty, only a too-far drop beneath for him to even consider leaving. 

Louis leaves him alone again, but Harry has slowly found himself getting used to the quiet. He thinks it’s easier when the room smells like the two of them, when he feels like he belongs here, even if his mind tells him that’s far from the truth. 

Niall comes to check on him again, but this time he hovers around. 

“Why do you follow Louis?” Harry asks as he sits on the foot of the bed while Harry stays seated at the desk just beneath the window. The lantern is lit, resting on the windowsill and illuminating the book in front of him. Niall’s own lamp is lit and sitting in his lap, bathing both of them in a soft yellow glow. 

“He’s a good person. Took me in when no one else would,” Niall says with a shrug and a soft smile. 

“Took you in?” 

“He takes care of us. I’m a bit of an unorthodox case, and Louis doesn’t mind it.”

“You’re a fit alpha, how would you not fit in anywhere else?” 

“Well, other than the fact that the crown hates Irish folk,” He says with a raised eyebrow, making Harry’s gaze drift away. He’s never been well versed in his politics, never having been told any of the policies his father passed beyond anything Zayn would tell him in passing. “I was born as a girl.” 

Harry’s eyes go wide for a moment, head snapping back to look over the alpha in front of him. 

“That’s the reaction I get from most people,” He says with a laugh. “It’s not something a lot of people are willing to accept, but Louis didn’t even bat an eye at it. We got a bit close on that alone, and then I started working for him.” 

“I didn’t even know,” Harry says, trying to figure out something that feels like a proper response. “I’m happy Louis took you in, and I’m sorry no one else does.”

“I’ll take it as a compliment. Have a good night, Harry.” 

“For the record, I don’t hate Irish folks, and I didn’t know my dad does, either.”

A bell chimes ten times outside and Niall stands. “That’s my queue to get to bed. You have a good night, lad.” 

Harry’s thoughts spin around their conversation for the rest of the night. 

  
  


Louis tells him they’re leaving once again a few days later, and Harry finds comfort in the routine of constant travel. As much as he tells himself that coming with Louis has been a break from being used to his daily routine, he finds himself craving the structure of it, of being told to be somewhere or to do something at a certain time. 

Louis had sat himself at the desk writing something that Harry doesn’t care to pay attention to for a few hours, the comfortable silence settling between them before he stood, envelope in hand. 

“We’re leaving at dawn. And then you can have all of the space and freedom that you want, for whatever reason,” Louis sighs. He thinks it’s meant to be a dig at not wanting to be left alone, but he doesn’t have the energy to fight it.

“Where are we going?” 

“My summer home. We’ll be there for the rest of your stay.” 

Harry feels his heart skip another beat in his chest at the thought of going to Louis’ home. The thought of being surrounded with his things, completely surrounded with  _ Louis.  _ He’s spent too long while being alone thinking of how he shouldn’t get comfortable with the alpha’s scent, with how it feels to be surrounded with him. He knows he’ll be home soon enough and he won’t have it anymore. 

“Which you still haven’t told me how long that’s going to be, by the way,” Harry says as he tries not to think about it any more than he already has. 

“Which is intentional.” 

Harry huffs, but he knows it’s not worth the fight. 

Louis dresses himself in the same kind of black clothes he wears each night before he leaves and it makes Harry ask himself the same questions. He wants nothing more than to know what Louis does, what kind of life he leads that would lead him to kidnap him. Even with the details he’s attempted to get from him or Niall, he hasn’t put it together, and it frustrates him more than he can describe. 

“See you later, princess.” 

Louis leaves his bag behind that night when he leaves, and Harry busies himself with going through it. 

Two rings, one silver and one gold, a watch, a small baggie full of coins, and a journal tucked away at the bottom. It’s bound in worn leather and wrapped tightly with a single leather string that crosses over it three times before it’s tied in a knot at the top. Harry holds it in his hand for a moment, but he decides not to read it. 

A second book is shoved into the bottom of the bag and he takes it with careful hands, settling himself on the floor beneath the window with full rays of light shining over him as he starts to read. 

  
  
  


Morning comes too quickly and Harry’s exhausted for their entire trip. He’d stayed up much of the night before trying to think of what Louis could do for a living. Considering going through his journal for answers and deciding against it. He’d been asleep by the time the alpha had come back, but sleep still burns his eyes as they go. 

He’s not sure how far they travelled, but less than half a day’s time is much shorter than he’d thought it would have taken. The cottage is small, but it’s pleasant. The lawn is left slightly unkempt, growing just slightly out of place, the green dotted with yellowed dandelions matching the vines that crawl messily up the edges of the brick. 

A cat greets them at the door, an eye missing and an ear cut in half. Her back is spotted with brown and orange and white that shines in the midday light streaming in from the open door. 

“That’s Fate. She catches the mice.” A shiver tickles up Harry’s spine at the thought, eyes scanning the floor in front of him. “The fates are immortal women with a single eye.”

“I think there’s more to that story.” 

Louis hums his dissent as the cat brushes against both of their calves, purring loudly. “I’m going out again. Make yourself comfortable. Farthest room down the hall is mine, take the one right before it, if you like.” 

It’s an unnecessary pleasantry, but Harry has spent his entire life used to being coddled, offered things that are more of a demand than a suggestion. 

Harry doesn’t contest, this time. 

He just watches as Louis goes, and then he’s alone again. 

The house is too quiet as he walks through the unfamiliar spaces. As much as he wants to look through Louis’ things, it feels too quiet. Even his steps feel too loud against the wood of the floor as he walks. 

Stepping into the room he’s been given feels like home, even if only for a moment. 

It’s a space that feels so far removed from being his, despite how long he’s meant to be there. Artificial. Put together for him to live in, but nothing beyond that. He sighs as he spreads out on top of the duvet on the bed, staring up at the ceiling as he lets his thoughts drift off. 

  
  
  


He wakes to silence and sunlight streaming through half-open curtains. 

His bag is missing where he’d left it the night previous, replaced with a stack of clothing that looks more like the alpha’s than anything else.

A flush spreads across his body as he dresses himself with fast hands, the scent from the clothes clinging closely to his body. 

It’s one of the first things he notices as he wonders through the cottage. Louis’ scent clings strongly to everything, a constant presence that makes him feel dizzy. 

“Good morning,” He says quietly as he steps into the kitchen where the alpha is sat at the table. He’s counting gold and silver pieces laid out in front of him and he looks startled for a moment when he’s interrupted, but his face easily falls back into the calm demeanor Harry’s gotten used to. 

“Morning. Sleep okay?” 

“Yeah. Thanks.” It’s awkward between them for a short moment as Harry makes his way through the kitchen to a brewed percolator of coffee, pouring himself a cup with still hands. Fate jumps onto the counter beside him with chirp as she lands and butts her head against his forearm. “How was your night?” 

“Fine. Sorry for leaving on your first night here.” The apology soothes something inside of him and he offers a shrug in response. “I’ll be here for the day. Can I give you a real tour?”

Harry can’t help the way he feels himself perk up when Louis pays attention to him. It makes something stir in his stomach under the attention, under the way the alpha looks at him. 

“That sounds nice.”

Louis shows him around the house with special detail to things Harry hadn’t noticed before. 

The painting at the end of the hall is a custom piece that one of Louis’ friends had done with oil paints, the rug another custom piece by another friend that Harry hadn’t met. 

“This is my room,” Louis says as he guides the two of them inside. The room is similar to the one he’d been given for himself in size and color, off-white walls with a four poster bed right in the center. “It’s a little boring since I’m not here often.” 

“Are you ever planning on telling me exactly what you do?”

“Eventually.” 

Harry takes that easily. It’s better than the  _ no  _ that he’s gotten each time before that. 

  
  
  


Dinner comes after an afternoon of Harry reading and Louis working before Louis offers to cook something, but Harry stops him. 

“I was thinking I could try, actually.” 

“Do you know how?” 

He doesn’t. But figures it’s easy enough. “

Everything goes into the pan all at once and he stirs it together slowly. 

He turns towards the window and looks outside for a moment, watching as the evening sun rolls over the hills. 

He’s drawn from his thoughts with the smell of something burning and his attention is immediately drawn to the pan in front of him where the vegetables are charred and the meat is still pink. “Oh, no,” Harry says as he stares down at the food in front of him, quickly moving it away from the heat and pulling out the burnt pieces onto a serving dish. 

He puts the rest overheat and watches it more closely. 

Nothing else burns, but he’s not sure how well he’s done, other than that. 

“It might not be great,” 

“I think maybe you might have skills in other areas.” 

Harry sighs, but he nods his agreement. 

  
  
  


Weeks pass and before Harry realizes it, the weeks turn to being with Louis for nearly two months. The days go much the same, with Louis giving him attention he’s never felt from an alpha before, and ever day it becomes more and more familiar, a feeling he wonders how he ever managed to live without. 

Where the cottage had once been only Louis’ filled with things that were only his, Harry’s things slowly started to fit in beside them. He finds himself fitting into spaces that had felt foreign and off limits before. 

With trips to the market and experiences that made him feel normal for the first time, he found himself content, a kind of happiness he thinks having everything he ever wanted should have brought, but instead he only finds it where he finds belonging. 

Above everything else, he feels like he’s made himself a home here, and something about that feels different than his real home ever had. 

The alpha sits at the table, eyebrows drawn down in concentration as he writes something on the paper in front of him, eyes darting 

Louis confuses him more than anything else, yet somehow, he finds him intriguing in more ways than he thought he possibly could. 

  
  
  


It’s just another sunday, but Harry finds himself excited for the day. 

Louis had said something about him being allowed to go out with him and the group, and he hadn’t realized how much he missed being able to spend time with a group until he’d spent so much time alone. 

Harry pours a plate of chopped vegetables from Louis’ garden into the skillet of chopped lamb, stirring them together as he hums a tune under his breath.

“Almost done?” Louis’ voice asks from behind him, steps from his boots heavy against the ground. 

“Think so. I did it how you showed me, so hopefully it’s not burnt.” That gets a laugh from the alpha and a surge of pride swells through Harry with that, a feeling of how easy it could be to make a home here. To live like this. Louis puts a hand on his shoulder as he comes closer, eying over what Harry’s doing with a hum. It makes Harry feel warm, a flush spreading over him that he tries not to give too much of his attention to. 

“Why don’t you go get dressed for after dinner? I’ll finish up here.” 

“Right. Yeah.” 

  
  
  


After they eat, Louis washes the dishes and hands them to dry before he walks back to the living room, standing behind Harry with a hand on his hip. 

“What are you doing?” 

"Stay still," Louis' voice is firm, sending a zip of electricity down Harry's spine in a flurry. 

"What are you doing?"

"This isn't a bonding bite," He explains, running a finger over the junction of Harry's neck. It sends a shiver through him, an involuntary little tremor through his whole body. "I don't know if you've ever had it done to you, but it's an attachment mark."

Harry's throat goes dry and he licks his lips. "What are you talking about?" He moves to pull away from Louis' grasp on his side, but the alpha’s grip tightens. 

"We're going to go out tonight and we're going to have fun. Do you still want to come?" 

"I - well. Yes." 

"Then I'm going to do this. For your own safety." 

Harry scoffs, jerking away hard enough that he squirms away from Louis' grasp. "The least you could do is not lie to me." 

"You want me to let you go to a pub, unmated, with a group of ragtags, while I get drunk?" Louis is too calm for Harry's liking. He's never seen an alpha so calm when he feels like he should be chastised. A part of him expects Louis to erupt at any moment, yelling and telling him to listen and do as he's told. "I will, if that's what you want. But I'd also like to talk you through what exactly will happen if I do that." 

"Okay."

"You have to consider that these places are filled with other travellers. Alphas without attachment to the community with no consideration of their actions." A pause fills the space between them as Harry slowly catches on to what Louis is insinuating. "An unmated omega is a trophy. A collectors item. I can't guarantee I can watch you every moment while we're there, and all it would take is a moment before you're incapacitated and bound to the back of a horse. Imagine the trophy and alpha would have when they realize who you are." 

He swallows hard, taking a breath. "You're not doing a good job of making me want to go with you at all." 

"I told you already. You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.” Louis pauses, but his gaze stays right on Harry. “If I do this, and please know it's not a bond mark, I'll be able to pay better attention to you. We'll be in tune like a bonded pair, but not as strongly. I'll feel any extremely intense emotions you have like fear or discomfort, and then we can leave." 

He looks over Louis' again, his face void of any tells that Harry could think he might have. "And you're sure it won't bond us?"

"It lasts two nights. I've done this with other omegas I've escorted for long lengths."

"Why haven't you done this to me before, then?" 

"You've never been in any circumstance that could be dangerous without it, before." Harry knows he has no reason not to trust Louis. He’s never been given a reason that he shouldn’t believe what he’s saying. He knows this should be the point where he should say something - where he should back away and say he doesn’t want to go anymore. 

But knowing that takes him right back to why he left home in the first place. The excitement of stepping away from what he should do, what feels like a rule or regulation. 

“Okay. Alright, do it, then.” 

Louis moves to meet Harry where he stands, just slightly out of reach from where he’d squirmed from his grip. He takes a moment before he moves behind him, one hand on the shoulder opposite of where he bends his neck to expose it to the alpha. “Relax, love. I told you it’s not going to hurt. You’re too tense.” 

He lets himself lean back into Louis’ scent again, settling into it for the first time in too long. It’s easy to relax into it after that, letting the feeling of relaxation fall over him easily. That’s when he feels Louis’ teeth against his neck, higher than where his bonding spot would be, followed by a gentle pinch. It doesn't hurt, but Harry gasps at the feeling of it. 

It's intense, sending black spots over his vision, soothed by the way Louis' traces his tongue over the mark. He exhales with it, orienting himself with each breath. 

He feels exactly how Louis described. 

In tune with Louis. 

“There you go. You alright?” Louis asks after a moment, thumb tracing over the spit-healed bite mark. 

Harry exhales a short breath, orienting himself for a moment before he nods. "Yeah. Good." 

Louis keeps a hand on his shoulder for a long moment, eyes raking over him as he waits. Harry thinks he's waiting for a reaction that might go against what he said, but he feels fine, beyond the warmth in his stomach that leaves him feeling dizzy in the most pleasant way he can describe. 

He can feel the way Louis is watching him, can feel the lacing of concern radiating off of him and it makes Harry feel safe. Cared for and paid attention to. 

He wonders what Louis can feel from him. If he can feel the surprise of how pleasant it feels to actually feel connected to another person, if he can feel the wonder of how it feels to be cared for in a way he's not sure he's ever felt, before. 

He's not sure when it started to feel normal. 

"Are you ready to go, then?" 

"I think so. Is there anything else I should know, before we go?" 

"I don't think so. I think you're perceptive enough to keep yourself out of trouble. But if you stay close to me, it'll be better." 

He hums his agreement to that, watching as the alpha puts a jacket over his shoulders before he hands another jacket to Harry with a single hand. 

It's Louis', but that's somehow become normal, too. 

He follows the alpha behind the house to the stables, watching as Louis opens the gate and saddles the horse with easy, practiced movements. 

Climbing onto the back of a horse with Louis in front of him, their bodies closer than Harry has been to another alpha ever before, has become a normal feeling. 

It's the little feelings of normalcy that send his mind back to his life at the palace. How he'd longed for the every day moments of intimacy, of closeness, that he never had been allowed to have. 

Sitting behind Louis reminds him of what he'd spent too many nights longing for, and how when he goes back, he'll only know exactly what he's missing. It had been bareable, before, to go without something he'd never experienced. Now, he thinks, he might not be able to go without. Without the comfort of having an alpha around, even if in nothing more than a friendly manner. 

They ride quickly, just below a full run, and Harry wraps his arms around Louis' waist as they dart through the path cut into the tress. 

It doesn't take long before other people come into view, the town center that he and Louis frequent each week familiar and comforting, even if different while bathed in the unfamiliar evening light. 

"I don't mind if you talk to anyone," Louis starts, looking at Harry with a soft expression. "Just trust your instincts. Be careful. And please stay near me." 

Harry just nods as they go inside, nervousness no longer present like he thinks it should be. 

It's loud. 

There are voices coming from every edge of the pub, men sat at the bar, at tables, standing along the sides. Each of them with a cup of something in their hands and chatting with another person. A band plays in the back, elevated a few feet above the rest of the floor on a small stage. 

Louis guides him through the crowd, a hand on the small of his back as they go, keeping Harry grounded while his eyes wonder through the crowd. 

None of them look particularly dangerous; they look like normal people that Harry would expect to see on any other day, and he thinks maybe that's what confuses him the most. 

He's brought to a table in the farthest back corner with a view of the entire rest of the building. Niall and Liam are already there, engrossed in a conversation that keeps them from noticing that he and Louis are standing there until they've already sat down. 

"Oh, hey boss," Niall says, words slightly slurring together and two empty glasses of beer in front of him. 

"Started without us?" 

"Not our fault you two are late." 

Louis rolls his eyes, but even Harry can tell it's fond. 

"What do you want?" Louis asks, a hand on Harry's shoulder. 

"Um, just whatever. Surprise me."

He's never had alcohol. But he knows that telling Louis that will only make him sound like a fool. 

Louis drinks, but not as much as Harry thought he would have with how much emphasis he'd put on what his plans were for the night. 

Harry has one beer for the night, and he nurses it for too long, until it's long since gone warm and it's no longer something he wants. 

"You alright?" Louis asks after a while of him sitting quietly, watching how others go about their night drinking, talking, a few people dancing to the music of the band. 

"Beers warm. Kind of gross." 

"I'll drink it!" Niall takes the glass and downs the rest of it in one go, making Harry laugh, a grin breaking out over his face. 

"You're disgusting, mate." 

He's happy, is the thing. 

When he'd been stuck in the house with nothing better to do, this was exactly what he'd had in mind. Sitting in a public place with the chance to watch strangers live a life so completely different from his own that it feels magical. The way the people surrounding him can live freely, do what they please, and not have to worry about reporting their actions to another person -- it mesmerizes him. 

Louis slides his arm around Harry, then, a comforting gesture that he finds himself leaning into, breathing deeply as he tunes back into the conversation between the three alphas with him. 

It's easy, and something about that settles any worries inside of him. 

He likes being with Louis, and he likes feeling like he fits in with him. 

They’re not friends. 

Not at all. 

Harry would deny it if he were asked and he certainly has no reason to be nice to his captor. He shifts the blame for the incessant fluttering in his stomach when Louis smiles to his intrigue - nothing more. 

"Anyways," Niall starts, scooting himself off of the booth. 

"Off to pull?" Louis teases. 

"A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do!" 

He's drunker than Harry thinks he's ever seen another person, staggering in a way that has Harry laughing all over again. 

Liam followers Niall with barely more than a shy smile, and then they're gone and he and Louis are alone. 

"Are you having a good time?"

"Yeah, I am." 

"You don't have to stay here, if you don't want to."

"Trying to get rid of me?"

"Thought you'd be sick of spending time with me, if I'm honest." 

Harry looks at him for a moment, trying to find something in his eyes that would be insincere, but he finds nothing more than a buzzed, happy smile. It's almost hard to admit, but he finds himself wanting to be honest. He's far from sick of Louis. 

Louis has managed to show him the best time of his life, even if half of it has been stuck inside. He's shown him what having the freedom to choose - even if only some things - can be and how liberating it can be to feel like an individual. He thinks he could never get sick of that. 

"No, not even close." 

The alpha smiles, squeezing him gently with the arm that has been wrapped around him the entire night. 

  
  
  


The night is coming to a slow close as people begin filtering out of the pub and Harry's eyes grow heavy. 

His eyes follow Niall for a moment, watching as he flirts with another man sat at the bar, then his hand reaches into the man's pocket, pulling out his wallet and tucking it away into his own pocket. Harry's eyes widen, just slightly, as Niall makes his way back to the table, sitting down without a word about it. 

Louis is talking to Liam, eyes drawn away from him, and Harry feels his stomach twist. 

"Good?" Louis asks as Niall joins them back at the table, not quite as drunk as he'd been when he left. 

"All good." 

"So that's what this is?" He asks after what feels like too long. Louis looks at him, but his expression stays calm. Harry can't feel any of the intense emotions he wishes he could feel from their fake bond, and it only makes his anger feel more intense. He knows that Louis can feel how angry he is, can feel how upset all of this has made him for reasons he can't even explain to himself. 

"What?"

"This little circle. You wouldn't tell me what you and your friends do because you're just a ring of thieves."

Louis stares at him for a moment, eyebrows furrowed like he wants to speak, but Harry has more to say. "Why have you been acting like this is some secret thing? You left me alone, every day, in unfamiliar places without a clue where you were going because you didn't want to tell me you steal your money?" 

He's not angry about the stealing. He thinks he should be, but a part of him thinks he knew that much, all along. He knew Louis wasn't a respectable working man from the moment they first met. Instead, the anger comes from how long he'd been left in the dark, how long the alpha had acted like it was a secret that he couldn't share. How long he made Harry feel stupid and clueless when he wouldn't tell him what he was doing. 

"I think you're misrepresenting that, a little bit."

Niall and Liam look at him, eyes wide. 

"Misrepresenting what you said?"

"I never told you what I do. There was no reason to, and you weren't really meant to find out." 

"Right, because Niall stealing gold pieces from every stranger's pocket is so -" Louis puts a hand on his hip, then, squeezing softly. 

A warning that even Harry knows better than to cross. 

"It sounds like it's time for us to go." Harry wants to argue again, but he knows there’s a better time. A better place. 

The cold air is shocking as they walk outside. It brings the mild anger simmering inside of him down, calms his thoughts, and settles his mind. 

“I don’t understand this anger,” Louis says after they’ve walked a ways down the road. “You’re acting as if I’ve betrayed you in some way, and I can tell that’s how you’re feeling. I don’t understand it,” Louis says, voice calm and quiet as they walk slowly in the direction they came. 

“You think I wouldn’t feel betrayed? You put on this… role, like you want to help people. Like you care about people who are suffering, but you make their suffering worse by stealing from them.” 

“I know you don’t understand it, but it is helping people.” 

“Oh I’m sure people feel so helped when they find all of their money gone,” Harry huffs, crossing his arms. He can’t explain why he feels so betrayed. Why it feels like Louis has hurt him so deeply. He knows he should have assumed Louis was doing something not entirely legal, but knowing that his time with him has been so freeing, so exciting, it makes him ache. 

“No, people feel helped when their taxes are paid when they otherwise would have had their homes taken by the crown, or their food is paid for when they might have starved to death otherwise, or their medicine is paid for when their children might have died without it.” 

“Ghosts are everywhere” Louis shrugs, noncommittal. Harry’s learned to let the conversation breathe between pauses, let the words find their way. “England’s full of them, and it’s something that needs to change before any more innocent people die.”

It doesn’t surprise him, somehow. 

"So, you're trying to change it?"

"Something like that," Louis says, but he still sounds sad. Harry hates that he can't break through to him, that he can't get him to just talk and tell him exactly what's happening. 

"How?"

"You wouldn't get it." 

"Why do you think you can do that?" A kind of anger that Harry hasn't felt towards Louis at any point starts to well up inside of his chest, flaring up until the tips of his ears start to feel hot with the embarrassment all over again. "Why do you think you can make assumptions about me so often? You do it so much. You say these things like they're fact but you never even bother to ask if they are." 

Harry stops walking, crossing his arms over his chest where the two of them stand just outside of a second pub from the one they'd just left. It's barely lit, but still enough that he can see the expressions on Louis' face. His lips are turned down into a scowl, eyebrows knit so tightly that a wrinkle forms on his forehead. 

"What? You think I want to ask you questions about your privileged little life so you can tell me what you think? When your name is the reason that all of this is happening? What good would that do? You've never experienced anything like these people have. You'd never even seen the impact of it before I brought you out here. So what exactly would your input do for anyone?" 

He can feel Louis' anger radiating off of him, too. It's thick and strong makes Harry's head hurt, only amplified by the way he can feel the echoes of Louis’ emotions on top of his own. Harry’s chest feels tight, his own anger twisting and merging with the way he’s been stuck in tune with the alpha, emotions pulled apart just enough so that he can separate which are his and which aren't, but everything feels amplified. 

“You act so righteous. Like you’re the only one who’s seen how unforgiving death can be. You’re not, and you’re not going to save the world with the belief that you’re the only one who can do it.”

Louis’ gaze feels as if it sparks heat where it lands, a flush rising over Harry’s cheeks. 

“You act like a spoiled brat. You don’t understand suffering and you never will.” 

Harry slaps him, body moving faster than his mind can consider the consequences. 

The smack isn’t hard, but the sound fills the space, choking him. Guilt immediately creeps over him as he stands, still, watching the alpha in front of him with wide eyes. 

“Omega.” Louis’ voice timbers with a growl, sending ice to Harry’s core. He knows it’s a warning. What Louis is warning him of, he can’t pinpoint, but he ignores it anyway. 

“Don’t speak to my experience like you know anything about me,” He says, quieter. 

Harry tries to keep himself from breaking into two, yet in moments like this, he feels like he has to distinguish himself from his past self. 

Before he met Louis, he never would have dared so much as speak back to an alpha. He would have sat down and taken every word barked at him with his pride, murmuring an affirmative. 

With Louis, he's turned into something different. He's grown into himself in a way that makes him feel powerful, independent and important in ways he never thought he could. Until he met Louis, he'd been under the impression that his life purpose was to sit still and look pretty, that his opinion wasn't important or meant to be heard. 

The fire that burned behind Louis' eyes just above where his mouth is turned downwards into a frown says something different, and it sends a thrill through Harry's body. 

Louis leans in, then, lips pressed against his own, and the thrill spikes again. Harry's eyes grow wide for a moment, the heat from Louis' hand where it's placed against his hip burning into his skin, spreading over his body. 

His eyes close, then, leaning into the weight of the alpha in front of him with a gentle sigh. 

"You," The alpha starts, looking over him with pupils blown wide. "Are insufferable. You drive me absolutely insane. You're loud, and demanding, and spoiled." Harry narrows his eyes, eyebrows drawing downwards as Louis speaks, but he still listens. "Yet, I feel so compelled to be around you. You've drawn me in, and I'm addicted to you, somehow." 

Relief washes over Harry all at once, lips slightly parted where he thinks he should say something, but the words don't come. 

"Kiss me again, then," he says instead of the insults he thinks he wanted to throw back at Louis. 

Louis presses him back against the wall behind them, uneven mortar of the bricks digging into Harry's back. The pain of it fades after a moment, lost in the sensation of being surrounded by Louis in every way. 

His scent is overwhelming. It feels amplified more than it ever has with how close the two of them are, with how Louis’ feelings are his and his are Louis, tangled and twisted up together. 

He's wet, he realizes, cock hardening in his briefs. Louis’ scent feels more overpowering when he’s needy, every inch of closeness not enough and all he can think of is how he wants more. 

"Christ," Louis says, pulling away from him. "You're incredible." 

Harry's head is spinning, mind filled with the idea of having Louis in every way that he can. He won't ask for it, walls of pride built too high around him, but the way the alpha's scent shifts into something sweeter only confirms that he feels the same. 

"I'm not going to sleep with you tonight," He says after a moment too long. Harry frowns, just the slightest downturn of his lips as Louis puts a finger under his chin, forcing his gaze to be on him. "But don't take that as a rejection. I want to make sure you know that." 

"Okay." His mouth is dry. 

"I don't want you to think I'm taking advantage of you. That's the farthest thing from my intentions." 

Harry nods. He can understand, even if it's not what he wants to hear. 

“I’m going to take you home now.” 

“Home?”

Louis hums, pressing another kiss against his lips before he takes his hand and they start walking again. 

It's slow going, but faster than it had been before their spat of a fight. A few others pass by them, drunken laughter echoing through the night-time town, bouncing off of the walls around them until they turn down a different alley and it's just them, alone, once again. 

Louis stands closer to him, warmth more obvious against his skin and the smell of vodka and beer sticking to both of them. It gets stronger as they both climb back onto the horse, Louis’ motions fast and practiced even as Harry lays his head on his back, the closeness comforting. 

  
  
  


They fall into bed together as soon as they’re into Louis’ bedroom, Harry’s back against the softness of the unmade bed and Louis on top of him, legs on either side of his waist, caging him in. 

He can feel how hard Louis is against his thigh, can smell the way his scent shifts in the air around him and feel how his movements go sloppy. Louis rolls off of him once they’re both breathless and weak with it. 

It takes a while for both of them to come down from it, breaths fading from panting to slow and even breathing. Louis turns onto his side after a while and Harry lets his eyes fall shut, letting the comfort of Louis’ scent and warmth spread over him. 

“Do you want to talk about what happened earlier?” Louis asks after a long while, fingers combing through Harry’s hair. 

“I’m sorry I got defensive. I just don’t like that people assume my life has always been incredible and amazing because of my status.” 

“You were treated poorly?” 

“I won’t say poorly. I just. There were a lot of rules, more restrictions. I never got to do anything I wanted to do. Never got to make friends or meet people, really.” 

“Weren’t you courting an alpha for marriage?”

"No. It's not that I haven't wanted to," Harry shrugs. "I don't know how much you know about royal etiquette when it comes to omegas?" 

"I have to say I wouldn't really know much. Unless it's similar to any other class?" Harry laughs softly under his breath, smiling just barely enough to turn up the corners of his lips. 

"I wasn't allowed to interact with alphas at all. My brother excluded before he..." Louis nods his understanding. "Alpha guards were to stay two meters away unless absolutely necessary, any alpha staff just the same. Balls and court attendances were always monitored, no unmated alphas allowed unless explicitly invited by my father. And then they wouldn't be allowed near me." 

"Didn't they expect you to marry?"

"Arranged, of course."

"Were you allowed to be around him?" 

"I wasn't going to be able to meet him until our wedding night. I don't even know his name." 

Louis goes quiet for a while, a frown spreading across the features of his face.

"Now I'd never equate that at all to the kind of suffering that I've seen in the time that I've been able to spend with you. But... That's why I've been so angry when you said that I've never experienced anything bad in my life." 

"I didn't know it was so strict." 

"I only ever had one friend, and other than that, it wasn't really allowed for me to have any kind of communication with anyone else."

"So that's why you came with me so willingly that first night. Were you that lonely?"

"I honestly can't...." He trails off for a moment, laughing under his breath before he cuddles closer to Louis, taking his scent in for a long moment. "You weren't what I was expecting. I thought you would have me with you for... a few days. A week, maybe. And then I'd go home and go back to everything that I've grown up with. I didn't think that I'd end up with you for so long and I certainly never thought I'd manage to grow so fond of you." 

"You're fond of me?" Louis asks, a dimpled grin on either side of his face. 

"That's what you took out of that?" 

"Well. I'm glad your little vacation from loneliness turned out better than you thought it could have." 

"So, now you know all about me. But I feel like I still don't know much about you." Louis plays with Harry's hair for a bit, fingers toying through the strands as the two of them lay there together. "What led you here? To this?"

"You're going to think it's strange."

"And me admitting that I wanted to run away with a kidnapping alpha to get away from being lonely isn't?" 

"Well. I suppose when you put it that way it feels a little less strange."

  
  
  
  


With summer rolling around, evening suppers around the fire have slowly become more normal. 

Where in the beginning Harry had only seen Louis' other friends in short bursts, he slowly finds himself fitting into the group without a second thought. 

Niall feels less like a babysitter and more like a friend, and that settles the last feelings of peace inside of him that leaves him feeling fitting in, at home all over again. 

He looks into the fire just in front of him, watching the way the embers crackle and spark off into the air around them. The evening air brings a slight chill, not uncomfortable where the warmth of the fire brushes up against his skin in return. 

He feels strange all of a sudden, a wave of dizziness spreading through his head as tiny black dots spread over his vision, followed only by a strong wall of nausea bouncing around in his stomach. 

He swallows it down, taking a breath as he keeps his eyes on the fire, only letting himself focus on the calm of it. 

"You alright, love?" Louis asks, a hand on his thigh with a gentle squeeze. He looks over to the alpha with a gentle smile. 

"Oh, yeah. Why?" He doesn't feel poorly enough to ruin their evening, so he forces a smile on his face. It's easy enough to keep his mind distracted when he tunes into conversation. 

"Was trying to get your attention for a second. Anything on your mind?"

"I don't feel very well. It's not bad. Just a bit uncomfortable." 

"Do you want to go in? It's alright, if you do."

“No, that’s alright. I’m fine.” 

Louis squeezes his thigh again as the group picks up their conversation from, where Harry assumes, they left off when Louis checked in on him. 

The discomfort comes back in stronger waves the longer he sits there until it hits him all at once. 

He’s warm. 

Unbearably so. 

He fails before too long, composure shattering beneath him without permission. “Louis -” He starts, voice breathless. 

The wind blows against his face, cool and light where his skin feels like it’s burning. 

“Oh, Christ,” Louis says first. “Okay, lads. Leave, now. Harry and I will be unavailable for a few days.”

He’s warm. It’s the only thought in his head, repetitive and unstopping, a constant loop of the same thought over and over. 

He’s not sure how many days he’s spent doing the same thing, with the same unbearable heat and the same relentless dread of being on his own. How many times he’s locked himself in a room alone to sit through the waves of pain and dread and heat and loneliness that he can’t control. 

The loneliness is the worst of it, he thinks. 

Knowing he has Louis, this time, sparks a new kind of heat inside of him. Unfamiliar, yet he embraces it. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to ruin the evening.”

The door clicks shut and the sound echoes. 

His muscles ache as if straining for something just out of reach, yet he stays still. 

Louis puts a hand on the small of his back, guiding him to stand easily. He feels malleable. Easily movable where Louis touches him and makes the warmth quell even if just for a moment. 

He’s led to Louis’ bedroom and inch of him lights up, thoughts firing off faster than he can process them. The quiet only comes when he settles himself into bed, surrounded entirely by Louis’ scent, by nothing more than the alpha and calmness. 

Flames overtake his body all at once, fed by his whimpers and sighs as he ruts himself against the bed. It smells like Louis, forcing the evergreen and crisp storm air through every piece of him, wrapping around his body and quieting the feeling of heat. 

He can feel Louis watching him as he ruts his hips in desperation, little breathy whines pushing past his lips. 

He comes like that, crying out Louis’ name as his eyes fall shut and he relaxes into the bed. It’s only then that he realizes he doesn’t have to bear the loneliness again. It’s a realization through a moment of orgasm sated clarity that he clings to. 

“Louis,” He whimpers out. “Louis,” he repeats, louder, this time. 

“I’m here, baby. I’m here. Are you okay?”

“Need you.” 

He can feel Louis pulling his clothes off of his body in motions that feel too slow, but the cool air in the room makes him sigh with content. 

Louis kisses him hard and fast, different from the night at the pub, and Harry wants to live in that feeling forever. 

“Please,” He begs, even if he’s not sure what he wants, anymore. 

“Okay. I’m here.” 

He watches as Louis strips his clothes off in rushed motions before he’s back on the bed, settling himself on top of Harry in quick movements. 

Louis pushes inside of him in a single motion and Harry cries out, gripping his shoulders tightly with eyes twisted shut. It’s a stretch, but it’s not painful. Harry’s always known he was made for this, made to be with an alpha, and it calms him, the stillness between them settling. It feels different than he imagined it would, in the best way he can imagine. 

“Look at me, baby. It’s okay. Are you alright?” Harry whines in response, opening his eyes to look up at the alpha. “Words, love. If you can.” 

“Good,” He forces out. His thoughts are still clear enough to focus on how overwhelmed with it he is, how intense all of it feels. 

Louis starts a gentle rhythm with that, hips moving at a punishingly slow pace that has harry pleading. He’s not even sure what he wants besides Louis, their scents blurring together and making all of his thoughts disappear. 

He comes over his chest for the second time with a cry as Louis knots him, going limp against the bed. He falls asleep with Louis still inside of him, sated and content. 

The rest of his heat feels like nothing more than a blur, too overwhelmed with Louis’ scent and the overpowering presence of  _ alpha  _ to think straight. For once, he’s happy to not have to think about anything. 

  
  
  


He rolls over in bed to find emptiness beside him and he frowns just slightly. His mind feels clear and his body doesn’t feel hot. He sighs, relieved, as he sits up and stretches his arms above his head, listening to the crack of his joints. The bed is still warm, but he wants nothing more than to be able to curl up and have a cuddle, even if all he’s only been with Louis for the past several days. 

“The lads want to come over for a cook out tonight, are you up for it?”

“That sounds nice, yeah.”

  
  
  


The warmth of Louis’ thigh pressing against Harry’s startles him from his thoughts.

Louis laughs. It’s a warm sound, familiar and welcoming, yet it sends a chill of cold that claws its way down Harry’s spine. 

The other boys are gentle with their looks towards them, but Harry feels heat spread across his cheeks that feels hotter than the fire in front of them. They don’t say anything, but Harry can imagine what they’re thinking. 

“Think I’m gonna turn in, lads,” Louis says as he sets his back straight. “Harry?” 

He hums his agreement, setting the dish of half finished stew on top of the stack of other bowls just beside the fire. 

They make their way back inside, but Harry follows behind Louis once again rather than making his way to the room he’d been given. A new habit that feels more comfortable than he thought it ever would. 

Louis strips, first and Harry allows his eyes to rake over him in long, slow motions. 

They’re laying in bed, the warmth of Louis’ arms around Harry’s waist, when Louis breaks the silence between them. “I think the lads and I almost have an agreement, on your father’s end.” 

“I think the only problem now is that I don’t want to go home,” Harry says, nose pressed against Louis’ neck, breathing him in. 

Louis turns to him, a dip between his eyebrows. Harry feels vulnerable, small and fragile in some parts, yet strong in others. It’s the same feeling that Louis has given him all along. 

“You’d rather stay here than live a life of luxury in the palace?” 

“The time I’ve had with you has been the best of my life. It’s exciting. I’ve spent most of my life like a ghost, unseen and in the shadows. With you, I feel like I have… reason.” 

He thinks he should tell Louis he loves him, too. It feels like the right time to be completely honest, but the words die in his mouth. 

"I think I should tell you something that I haven't been entirely honest about," Louis says softly. Harry's eyebrows draw downwards, but he nods, watching him closely. "I assume you think I've always lived like this. A bit poor, nothing in my life except my.... attempts to help people have better lives."

"Your robin hood type of thing, yes." 

"Well. That's not completely true." Harry hums, trying to show he's listening. "My family name is well respected. My parents think I'm away right now to find an omega to marry. But, this is what I've been doing the entire time."

Harry blinks once, trying to process what Louis' just said. 

He thinks a part of him knew, with the way Louis holds himself, with the way he speaks, but he hadn't allowed himself to fully consider the thought with the way he navigates his life. 

"I suppose I could have assumed that. You do act rather... high class."

"I can keep myself from doing it when I'm just around the other boys, but you speak how I do when I'm with my family, and it makes it hard to turn it off." 

Harry laughs, smiling again as he rests his head on the alpha's chest, letting his scent surround him again. 

"I think that makes all of this even more brave. You're risking so much to help complete strangers." 

"I also think I should tell you exactly what I've been doing in regards to your father." 

That catches Harry off guard, making him sit up just a bit to look at Louis. 

"You've been in contact with my father?"

"He's known since day one that you were taken hostage, though I'm sure the circumstances he's imagining are... quite different from how they've actually been."

"What exactly... Has he.. not offered you enough money to take me back? Agreed to let you keep me... I don't understand." Harry feels a weight in his chest at the thought.

"I never asked for money in exchange for you."

"Then what were your demands?" 

"Policy change. Lower taxes. More public assistance for those who need it. Real changes in the public sector that are so desperately needed." There’s a long pause between them, Louis not looking at him, instead gaze fixed on the ceiling above them. “I plan on studying law and following my father’s footsteps to go into parliament. This is something I’ve been quite vocal my entire life about, but nothing has been done, and I know people need it more than anyone has ever seen.” 

“I… can’t disagree with you. I suppose high needs do require high strategy.”

“The only issue is that your father has been very dismissive of my demands. He won’t budge on his policy. Just keeps demanding your return and saying that whoever becomes your husband will make the policy instead of him.” 

Harry sighs, heart beating too hard in his chest as he tries to think of what he should say. He’s accepted that he’s in love with Louis. Accepted that he loves the way he makes him feel, the excitement he gets from him even in the short moments of spending time together doing nothing. He’s fallen in love with his big heart, with the way he cares so deeply about others, with how strong willed he is and how kind he is even between sarcastic chiding. 

“I have an idea. I’m not sure how well it will work, or how my father will take it.” Louis turns to look at him, then, watching him with the same calm expression Harry has learned to love. “You’re from a noble family. You said your father is in parliament. What if… you become king? Rather than going into middle man law.” 

“You’re serious?” 

“I… kind of love you. And I have to marry someone. And I would like to be able to continue being with you.” 

“Jesus Christ,” Louis exhales. “I kind of love you too, I suppose.” 

Harry smiles, rolling so that he’s completely on top of the alpha and kissing him gently. “Kind of?” 

“Or completely and totally. Which ever one makes me sound more mysterious.” 

“Don’t think mysterious is quite your style.”

“Suppose you’re right. Do you want to meet my parents?” 

  
  
  


Harry had thought that Louis meant long term, a commitment that he would make eventually, rather than immediately. But as the two of them hand off the horse to a house maid who takes her to the stable, it sets in that he’s meeting them now. 

The door opens before they reach it, and an older alpha with greyed hair and kind eyes as well as a shorter, omega woman with smile lines and long, black hair open the door to greet htem. 

"Mum, dad," Louis starts, nodding his head in respect. 

Harry is still almost numb, disbelief washing over him in waves. A part of him still can’t handle the idea that he’s going to marry Louis, that he’s going to spend every day with him for the rest of his life. But, standing at the stoop of a manor at the opposite end of the country from his own, half a day's trip from the home his family used to stay in for retreats, he feels his stomach turn with the happiness of it. 

"This is Harry. We've been courting for the time being, since I left."

Harry had never been introduced by his first name. 

“Oh, hello Harry. It’s lovely to meet you.”

“You as well, Mr. Tomlinson, Mrs. Tomlinson,” He says, smiling softly. Louis squeezes his hand, a reassuring gesture that settles him easily. 

“Come in, you’ll catch your death out there.” 

Louis pulls his boots off, placing them just beside the door as Harry follows suit, taking his jacket off and handing it to the maid just as Louis does the same. It’s a dance that feels familiar, yet completely different from what he’s used to at the same time. More relaxed, somehow, even if the motions all feel the same. 

“You boys are just in time for supper. Louis, go show Harry to his room before we eat,” Louis’ mum says after pressing a kiss to Louis’ cheek. 

“Yes, mum. Come on, it’s just up the stairs.” 

He gets a better look around as he’s led up the stairs, the brick walls decorated with paintings of the family.

Louis sets both of their bags down at the foot of Harry’s bed before he comes closer, putting hands on his hips and tugging him closer. “You’re okay?” Louis asks softly, his voice gentle and sweet.

“Of course. Your family is very sweet.” 

“I can already tell they like you.” That brings a smile to Harry’s face, eyes cast towards the ground. “Ready?”

He nods his agreement, and they go back downstairs together without delay. 

  
  
  


Dinner is brought out just as Louis finishes leading grace. 

"So, Harry," Louis' father starts after a few moments, giving him a pleasant smile. The atmosphere of Louis' home is comfortable, homely and sweet in a way he'd never felt with his own. "What does your family do?"

He and Louis hadn't discussed this. 

They hadn't discussed if he was meant to disclose his title or not. He sends a glance to the alpha who looks unphased, making a face at his younger sister as he cuts up the meat on her plate into smaller pieces. 

Another stir goes through his stomach at that, at the idea of making a family with an alpha who was attentive, sweet, caring for those other than himself. 

"Oh, well. I suppose I didn't want to overwhelm you all at first. But I'm in relation to the crown."

"Oh, of what descent?" 

"Father, isn't it a bit taboo to ask after an omega's status?"

"Oh, I suppose. I meant no offense, Harry. I suppose it's just a curiosity since you're the first omega our son has shown any interest in." 

Louis clears his throat, but the smile doesn't fall from his face. 

It doesn't come up again for the rest of the dinner and Harry feels a kind of relief wash over him with that that he can't explain. There'd never been a time in his life that he had felt ashamed of his title, but he almost likes the anonymity that comes with being separated from it. He knows he would be treated differently if he said who he was; that’s just a factor of his life that he's grown used to. But the longer he’s stayed away from living that way of life, the more comfortable with it he gets. 

Here, he can pretend he’s just Harry. 

It’s easy to get lost in the idea of just being himself, without a title or status to change it. 

  
  
  


Louis comes to the room he'd been given to sleep in for the evening just before he crawls into bed to sleep. "Thank you, for this," The alpha says, quietly. 

“For what?”

“Being here. Playing along. Being you.” That sends a stunned silence through Harry for a long moment, watching as Louis’ eyes drag over him. 

"It's been nice. Your family is beautiful," He finally replies after a moment. 

"Thank you. I know they can be a bit much, at times."

"Can you come in, or is that inappropriate?" He teases, a knowing smile flashing over the alpha's face. 

"It is a bit inappropriate, but all of the birdies who might tell anyone are long asleep." 

Louis sits at the edge of his bed as Harry crawls beneath the duvet, wrapping it around himself tightly. "Why didn't you tell me about this before? When we first met?" 

"It's not really important, is it?" 

"I guess not."

"Would you, or anyone else, for that matter, take my beliefs seriously had you known I come from a family of status?" 

Harry sighs softly, both of them already knowing the answer. He hadn't thought of it that way, and he supposes that only further confirms Louis' reasoning. "Are you going to tell your parents who I am?" 

"Tomorrow, yes. I know you'll still be asleep by the time I wake up so when my dad and I have tea I'll tell him." 

"What's our story, then?"

"As far as my parents know I've been away looking for a mate. I suppose we can say we met while we were both in town, and we've been courting since."

"Vague, but they don't seem to be the prying type."

"I've always been rather private. They've learned not to pry. Unlike some..." Harry laughs softly, smiling. 

He likes Louis. 

Too much, he fears. A part of him almost wishes their story was true, that the fates had allowed them to cross paths in a natural way and they'd grown to love each other in the way they'd been intended to. Yet, he knows that if he'd crossed Louis' path in the life he used to live, he wouldn't have given him a second glance. 

Back then, he'd known he was meant to follow orders. Stay quiet, listen to what he was told. Marry the alpha that had been strategically picked to carry out his father's economic policies in the way he'd wanted his brother to, at one point. 

"What happens when we leave?" 

"We can figure that out later. Rest, omega. I'll wake you in the morning." 

"Okay. Goodnight." 

Louis leaves, shutting the door behind him. 

Harry sighs softly, the cold bed beside him making him nervous. He's grown used to sleeping beside Louis, and sleeping alone in an unfamiliar place only makes it so much worse. He takes a deep, steadying breath and tries to force himself to sleep. 

Instead, his mind wandered into what would come next. He knew Louis' plan. He knew what was going to happen. Although, he didn't know how to factor in the fact that he'd unmistakably fallen in love with the alpha and how he would be able to explain that to him. 

A wave of exhaustion falls over him all at once, sweeping him into the same dreams he'd had when he was still in the palace. 

The dreams of being happy and content, bright light streaming in through open windows in the spring. But this time, the faceless alpha that had once danced with him in the kitchen as they sampled pieces of desserts and listened to the joyous yells of children just outside the same windows is replaced with Louis. 

He sleeps just as peacefully as he had when Louis laid beside him. 

  
  
  
  


The next day goes much the same. 

Louis' family is chaotic in ways Harry never quite got to experience with his own. There's love packed into every corner and the way that they interact with each other makes Harry almost sad to have to leave. 

The shock of finding out where Louis came from had worn off, and all Harry can think about is how sweet Louis is with everyone - with his parents, with his siblings, even with him. 

He realizes too quickly that he doesn't want to go home. That he could stay here with Louis and make a life with him, if he were able. All he ever wanted from life has been joy and love, and he's felt more of it in the two days he's had the chance to spend with his alpha and his family than he has in his entire life, and that's the realization that hurts the most. 

Louis' family doesn't pry into his information, doesn't ask him any more questions that he doesn't know how to answer, and they seem to understand that he and Louis take time away just to be with each other. Alone, to talk, to spend time that both of them know can't be permanent. 

Only when the sun has set and the kids are long asleep does the reality settle in for Harry. He's known all along that none of this can be permanent, that everything he's had with Louis and with his friends is temporary. He'd known that on the first night when he left with Louis. 

None of this was ever meant to be permanent, yet he was never meant to get attached, either. 

He was never supposed to let himself have feelings for the alpha. 

Louis said it himself. This was all supposed to be a game that he was just another player in - playing along, faking something to put Louis’ parents at ease.

He knows that before long he'll be expected to go home and marry someone else, only to spend the rest of his life wondering how it could have been, if he'd stayed here. If he'd let Louis in a little more. If he'd tried a little harder to push against what his father laid out for the plan for his life. 

That's how Harry finds himself curled up in bed, curled up around a pillow while the light from the full moon streams in through the open curtains. 

The door creaks open, light from a candle illuminating Louis' face. 

"Hi," The alpha whispers, closing the door behind him. "Mind if I join you for a few minutes?" 

"That sounds nice," Harry says, voice just as hushed. He moves the pillow away from his chest and sets it at the top for Louis to lay on just as the alpha sets the candle down on the night table before laying down in the space beside him. 

He lays so that they're facing each other, close enough that he can feel the heat on his body and his scent makes him feel just as comfortable as it always has. 

"Are we going to get caught?" He sees the way the alpha’s face shifts into a smile with that, just as he presses a calming kiss against his lips. 

"No, I don't think so. And even if so, it's fine." His voice sounds sad, tone slightly lower than normal. He sighs as he shifts to lay on his back, wrapping an arm around Harry. They lay like that for a long while, even after the candle dims and the room goes dark. He knows Louis is still awake from the speed of his breathing, just a comforting presence in the silence. 

“Louis? Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” His voice sounds tired, sad, still, but not as deeply. 

“Yesterday you said I was playing along. Is that all this is?”

It’s a hard question to ask, his heart beating too fast in his chest as he waits for an answer. He isn’t sure which answer would hurt more. 

“No. Not to me.” 

“Me, neither.” A pregnant pause stretches out between them, “Is everything okay?”

“I’m going to have to take you back to the palace, soon.” 

Harry feels the way his heart sinks, an ugly pit forming in his stomach with the feeling of it. 

“What? What’s happened?” 

“Nothing in particular happened. We’re running on borrowed time,” Louis started, fingertips tracing patterns into the bare skin of Harry’s chest. “Unfortunately, I think the interest is about to outweigh the principal.”

“When?”

“Dawn, to get there in two days’ time.” 

Harry had created a world of his own invention. He was not forged from glass in this world, no longer delicate and meant to be seen, not touched. 

“Mate me. It’s the only way you won’t be hung.” 

The darkness conceals Louis’ immediate reaction, but he feels the way he shifts beside him, turning to face him. 

“You’re sure?” Harry hums a response that fades to a sigh as Louis’ fingertips trail up his chest, over the bow of his collarbone and to the spot where he’s to bond him. 

“More than.” 

“Now?” 

“I’d like that, yes.” 

Louis stands from the bed, then, fumbling around in the dark just beside him as Harry sits himself half up on his elbows, making out the shape of him in the dark. He lights the lamp on the bedside table after too long of his fumbling before crawling back onto the bed. He’s closer, this time, expressions visible once again in the barely there light. 

“Wanna see you for this,” Louis says in a hush, fingers trailing over the unmarked bond spot all over again, sending a shiver through Harry’s body. 

A flush crawls over Harry’s face with a shy smile. 

“I love you.” 

“And I love you.” 

Louis’ teeth push past his skin and Harry sees a sky of stars in front of his eyes. 

He feels more connected to Louis in that moment than he thought possible, in tune, completely tied together. 

“Let’s save the world, then, your highness” Harry says with a laugh, breathless and quiet. Louis’ arms are wrapped around him tightly, nose still pressed against his neck where his bite mark is. Harry feels boneless, unable to move even if he wanted to, yet more content than he thinks he’s ever felt. 

“The world will still be ours to save tomorrow.” 


End file.
